A Very Klaine Summer
by nothingbutgoneness
Summary: This is a collection of mostly-fluff one-shots about Kurt and Blaine's experiences during the summer. There's fluff, drama, pseudo-smut - all the good stuff. I hope. M CHAPTER: 61
1. The Oak

**The Oak**

A warm breeze tickled his nose as he leaned into the person beside him. The powerful oak that the pair reclined against shielded their eyes from the merciless June sun. Below them, the soft, checkered fabric of their picnic basket protected them from freshly-mown grass. At their feet lay the remnants of an excellent lunch; a few curious ants had already begun to feast upon crumbs of bread and bits of fruit. Off in the distance, children's laughter drifted toward them from the playground on the other side of the park, but that noise was easily eclipsed by the thousands of rustling leaves above their heads, by a particularly loquacious sparrow perched in a tree a few yards away, by their own slow breathing, and by two steady heartbeats.

A song wafted through his mind, as though a leaf in the wind. He began to hum it absentmindedly, his voice matching harmoniously with the world around them. As he hummed, his fingers played with those of his companion, whose head rested on his shoulder.

About a minute later, Kurt spoke. "What is that tune, Blaine?"

Blaine hummed a few more bars, and then trailed off. "I believe it's called 'Watch the Wind Blow By' by Tim McGraw."

When Blaine said this, Kurt could hear the words reverberating through his boyfriend's body, as his ear was pressed into the other's shoulder. His voice sounded quiet deep, and it made Kurt giggle.

He felt Blaine shift as he looked down at the boy he held close. "What's so funny?"

Choosing to ignore the silly truth, Kurt replied, "Tim McGraw, huh? I wasn't aware that you listened to country music. How very...Brokeback."

Blaine nudged Kurt's knee with his own. "Very funny." He paused for a moment before continuing. "When you play the guitar as much as I do, you explore all genres of music, including country. I guess that song...it seemed to fit the moment."

"Well, I haven't heard it," Kurt murmured. "Would you like to sing it so all of us might enjoy it?"

Blaine chuckled lightly, and then obliged. When he began to sing, his voice was soft, tender; this was not a performance, he was not belting out a note, and he was not trying to impress anyone. He was simply serenading his boyfriend.

"The creek goes ripplin' by.  
>I've been barefootin' all day with my baby.<br>Brown leaves have started fallin',  
>Leadin' the way.<p>

I like it best just like this,  
>Doin' nothin' all the way.<br>So let's lay down in the tall grass,  
>Dreamin' away.<p>

And all I wanna do is let it be and be with you  
>And watch the wind blow by.<br>All I wanna see is you and me go on forever  
>Like the clear blue sky.<br>Slowly,  
>There's only<br>You and I  
>And all I wanna do is watch the wind blow by."<p>

Before Blaine could continue on to the next verse, Kurt turned his head and touched the singer's lips with his own. The kiss was brief, but precious. When Kurt pulled away, he saw a single tear in Blaine's golden brown eye.

"I love you."

They laughed, because each boy had uttered the words at precisely the same time. They then settled back into their comfortable prior position: Kurt leaned into Blaine's chest, and Blaine surrounded Kurt with his arms. The two sat there for a long while, watching the oak's shadow grow longer in front of them as the sun slowly sank behind them.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"I have a feeling that this summer with you will be amazing."

Blaine squeezed his arms around Kurt tightly for a moment.

"I know."

* * *

><p>Hey guys, I thought I'd put my notation at the bottom, because I know that <em>I <em>always skip over the ones in the beginning. Well, I suppose I skip over the ones on the end, too.

Anyways, if you're still reading this, thanks! This is my first FanFic, so let me know what you think by reviewing. (Just don't ask me how to do it. I haven't done it before.)

Just some info on this series: I plan to write a bunch of short one-shots about Blurt's summer together (hence the title "A Very Klaine Summer"). (Yes, I KNOW that the couple name is Klaine, but ever since Darren Criss suggested "Blurt" in an interview, I've thought that that is the greatest thing I've ever heard in my life.) Most of these one-shots will be fluff (good fluff, not lame fluff...I hope), with little (but not no) drama.

If you're STILL reading this, mad props. I'd've lost interest by now.


	2. Thunderclaps

**Thunderclaps**

They had parted ways only three hours prior to the storm's onset. The day had been overflowing with laughter, love, and relaxation. Nothing stressful—or eventful, really—transpired; no, it was just another summer day the pair shared joyfully.

The first few raindrops heralded the impending deluge on the panes of the bay window that overlooked the endless front lawn. He had perched himself on the cushion there soon after retiring for the day, hugging his knees and gazing thoughtfully out at the artful landscaping. He noticed none of it, however—not the plants, nor the critters, nor the slowly darkening sky, nor the kamikaze droplets that fell before his eyes. He saw instead the marvelous memories of the past few weeks, weeks spent together doing nothing of consequence. Even as the clouds turned black and hundreds of raindrops joined the first brave bunch, he remained unaware of the gathering storm.

That is, until Katy Perry interrupted his reminiscing from the pocket of his jeans.

"Let's go all  
>The way tonight,<br>No regrets,  
>Just love."<p>

The song stopped there, for he quickly retrieved his cell phone and answered it.

"Kurt."

Simply uttering the name brought a smile to Blaine's lips. He waited for the other boy to reply.

Silence.

"Kurt?" A lack of a response concerned Blaine. "Kurt, are you there?"

After a moment, "Blaine?"

Blaine felt relieved, but only momentarily. Though he could not see his boyfriend's face, Blaine knew that Kurt's blue eyes were alight with fear.

"Kurt, are you alright? Are you hurt?" His words came rushed and low. It was then that a piercing thunderclap echoed through the speaker; the storm must be worse in the region in which Kurt lived.

"Blaine, I..." The terrified boy gulped. "I really don't like thunderstorms."

Another roll reached Blaine's ears. "Isn't Finn home yet? What about Burt and Carol?"

"No." Kurt's voice quavered. "Finn's deciding to spend the night at Sam's, and Dad and Carol can't leave the function they attended because a tree fell and is now blocking the only exit."

Blaine abandoned his spot in the window and dashed about, snatching his keys, his jacket, and his umbrella from their various hiding places. "Kurt, I'm on my way over."

"No!"

The force with which Kurt spoke caused Blaine to freeze. "Why not?"

"Because..." His voice was soft again. "My mother's accident...It was storming that night."

Blaine's heart broke. "Kurt..."

"And I am not going to let you drive in this weather just because of me. I'm not worth that risk."

Blaine's hand grabbed the doorknob. Just as he prepared to bolt through the torrential downpour to his car, he said to Kurt, "First of all, you are worth every risk imaginable. I'd fly to the moon and back without a single tank of oxygen if you asked me to. Second, shut up. I'll be there as fast as I can."

After a pregnant pause, Kurt whispered, "Please hurry."

* * *

><p>When the doorbell rang, he leapt from the couch on which he had been huddling under a blanket. He flew to the door and wrenched it open, relieved to find his boyfriend shivering on the porch, grinning from ear to ear and soaked from head to toe.<p>

"So, I was just in the neighborhood..."

Before Blaine could finish his undoubtedly lame joke, Kurt grabbed his hands and pulled him close, crashing their lips together. He allowed his fear and anxiety to ebb away as he held his love in his arms.

A particularly loud clap of thunder caused both to jump, and Blaine laughed. "Come on, let's get me cleaned up."

Kurt led Blaine by the hand to his bedroom, where the drenched boy changed into a pair of Kurt's sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Most of the gel had been washed from Blaine's hair, so dark, wet curls framed his face.

The pair collapsed on Kurt's bed. Blaine automatically wrapped his arms around the other boy, who no longer shook with fear. They laid there for a while, allowing the fierce pounding of rain on the sides of the house to serenade them to sleep. Both soon felt their eyes droop.

"Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"I wasn't aware that you owned sweats."

Though it was dark, and he couldn't see Kurt's face, Blaine knew he smirked.

"Even divas like to be comfortable."

A few minutes passed in silence.

"Blaine?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Kurt."

The two lovers then fell asleep, safe and content in each other's arms.


	3. Perfect

**Perfect**

The chatter of dozens of shoppers was merely white noise by the time they reached the food court. After an hour and a half of window-shopping, the two were famished. It was easy to forget how big the mall was when one lived in a tiny, separate world—a world for two.

The food court was a particularly crowded area of the mall; after all, it was just past noon on a hot and sticky Tuesday in late June in Lima, Ohio—it wasn't as though there were many attractions to visit. The couple was forced to search for a while until they spotted a table for two in a corner. They quickly settled into their seats.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "These tables are filthy."

Blaine laughed, and, snatching a few napkins from the silver dispenser, he began to sweep the crumbs and dirt off of the cream tabletop. He tossed the trash into a nearby receptacle without even leaving his seat. Kurt clapped dramatically, and Blaine bowed, flourishing his hands.

Then he sighed. "So what are you hungry for?"

Kurt glanced around at the various vendors along the walls. _Chinese, no...Japanese, no...pizza, no...Chinese, still no..._He scanned one wall, rejecting all of the choices there, and then shifted his eyes to the next one. _No, no, no—_He stopped. Perfect.

He turned back to Blaine. "How about wraps at Trop—" His voice trailed off. Blaine was gazing at him quite peculiarly¸ with an odd half-smile lighting up his face.

"What?" demanded Kurt, instantly self-conscious. "Is my hair alright?" His hand automatically reached for his head, but Blaine caught it mid-air and guided it back down onto the table.

"Your hair is perfect," he murmured, his smiling widening, "just like the rest of you. Sorry if I freaked you out, it's just...sometimes, I get so lost in you. And I love it."

Kurt blushed deeply, but he squeezed Blaine's hand to reciprocate.

They sat for a moment, simply taking each other in, until Blaine broke the silence. "So what do you want from Tropical Smoothie?"

Kurt bit his lip. "Hm...Jamaican Jerks are good...oh, but they make your breath smell bad, no...Popeye's isn't bad—ugh, the last thing I need is spinach in my teeth...I'd get Turkey but the dressing will go straight to my thighs...I guess...I'll get a King Caesar." He looked a Blaine, who was once more watching him with an amazing expression.

"Is any decision ever simple for you?" He chuckled when Kurt stuck his tongue out at him. "I'm afraid to ask, but what kind of smoothie would my King Caesar want?"

With a smile, Kurt replied instantly, "Kiwi Quencher." At Blaine's impressed look, he elaborated. "It's been my favorite since I was ten."

Blaine laughed again. "A King Caesar and a Kiwi Quencher, coming right up." He stood, leaned forward to kiss Kurt lightly on the forehead, and said, in a deep tone, "You man the fort, I'll go find provisions." He then turned and left, leaving Kurt giggling behind him.

Blaine entered the line behind a woman and, behind her, a pair of preteen girls. One glanced over her shoulder at Blaine, and quickly turned back, stifling snickers. She nudged her friend in the arm.

"What?"

"Sh!"

"What?" the second girl whispered.

The first girl also spoke in dulcet tones, but was still loud enough for Blaine to hear (though he feigned deafness and looked away). "The guy behind us is totally supermegafoxyawesomehot."

The second girl stole a quick peek back at Blaine, and then whipped back, giggling profusely. The two continued to snigger until they ordered, paid for, and received their food. As they walked away, Blaine winked playfully at them. This caused their giggles to intensify, and they sped off.

He sighed. They would never know.

Blaine approached the counter and asked the rather large man behind it for a King Caesar wrap, a Buffalo Chicken wrap, a Kiwi Quencher, and a Rockin' Raspberry. While he waited, he glanced over at Kurt, who was making origami figures out of napkins. Blaine felt himself losing touch with the sights and sounds around him as he observed Kurt. He was so soft, so light, so sweet, so beautiful...so perfect.

_And he's mine._

Blaine felt like flying.

"Dude, I said here's your food!"

Blaine was back, feet firmly on the ground. He apologized and sheepishly took the bag from the large man. He stepped back toward Kurt.

His stomach hit the floor.

Three big guys encircled Kurt, who, as far as Blaine could tell, was still seated. All three wore green letterman's jackets. Blaine's heart stopped beating.

These were the assholes who nearly kicked the life out of him at his old school.

For being gay.

And now they had surrounded Kurt.

Blaine broke into a run, the food bouncing in the bag in his hand. He screeched to a halt on the opposite side of the table. Four pairs of eyes looked up at him in surprise. One pair looked absolutely terrified.

After a tense silence, the biggest of the three green-clad boys spoke.

"Hello, fag."

"Hello, dumbass."

The words were out of Blaine's mouth before he could stop himself. Kurt blanched even further.

Dumbass smiled, looking mildly impressed. "You've grown some balls since I saw you last, princess. Not that you need them..." The other two bullies, looking very much like moss-covered boulders, chuckled sycophantically.

"Leave. Now." Blaine was shaking. Both fear and anger coursed through him, and he balled up his fists.

"Now, now." Dumbass smiled. "There's no need to be rude, Twilight Sparkle. We were just getting to know Kurt here—I mean, he's like family after all..." He placed a hand on Kurt's quivering shoulder.

_**WHAM!**_

Blaine decked Dumbass across the jaw, sending him reeling backward. His companions cracked their knuckles menacingly, but before they could take a step, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and ran, abandoning their food, abandoning their table, and abandoning all pretense of strength.

They ran past dozens of staring eyes and several screams of shock. They ran through crowds and stores, ignoring shouts of protest and angry shoppers. They ran until they reached Blaine's car in the parking structure. They collapsed against the door, panting, and Blaine began to sob.

Kurt let Blaine fall into his arms and cry into his cashmere sweater. He had guessed by their exchange of words that Blaine knew the three from his high school before Dalton.

_He must have been so scared._

Kurt realized then what Blaine had done. He had swallowed his fear, his shame, his hurt to protect him, Kurt, from them. Kurt felt a few tears trickle down his face.

Now it was his turn to protect his boyfriend.

"I love you," he whispered into Blaine's ear.

"I love you, too," Blaine hiccupped, "so much. I saw them and I thought they were going to...I thought...you..."

"Shh..." Kurt quieted his pained rambling. "It's okay. I'm okay. You're okay. _We're okay_."

They stood there for a long while, just holding each other, until Blaine was calm enough to hand Kurt the keys. Before he could walk over to the passenger door, Kurt caught him in a passionate kiss.

"I really, really love you, my white knight."

Blaine chuckled. "I love you, too, King Caesar."

* * *

><p>Hey guys! I hope you're still liking these one-shots, which I'm assuming you must; after all, you ARE on Chapter Three. If you think I suck, why are you still here? I'd like to not only encourage you to read and review me, but to also give me some ideas about what I should show Blurt doing during their summer of love. (I only have so many ideas, but I really like writing these, so I need your help.) Try to keep the drama light, something that can easily be resolved in one chapter, like this scene here.<p>

Thanks guys!


	4. Hot and Cold

**Hot and Cold**

He hadn't moved in hours. His muscles were sore and his eyes tired. He huddled under his many layers, shivering, his body evidently unaware of the heat wave that burned the outside world. The silence of the house escaped his attention; in fact, all thoughts and senses had been dulled by the pounding in his head.

His cell phone rang for the third time that hour. He did not answer it, though, for he barely had the energy to focus on the sound to identify the caller.

"Let's go all  
>The way tonight,<br>No regrets,  
>Just love.<br>We can dance  
>Until we die.<br>You and I  
>Will be young forever!"<p>

He allowed the ringing to continue into the chorus; at the end, the music repeated, and then stopped. A minute later, the phone chirped, alerting him of a new voicemail.

He desperately wanted to answer, to hear the voice on the other end of the line, but there was simply no way he could will his body to move. So he lay there, continuing to shake on his bed, nose streaming and face burning. It felt like a lifetime later when he heard a fist pound on the front door downstairs.

"Blaine?"

Despite himself, Blaine managed a small smile. There it was. The voice.

The knocking continued, growing louder and more urgent. "Blaine, please open the door! Come on, Blaine, are you home? Blaine!"

Suddenly, the knocking stopped, and Blaine could just hear the sound of a key scraping in a lock. "Blaine, I'm coming in, okay?"

The door swung open and shut, and footsteps fell quickly on the stairs, stopping in his open doorway.

"Oh, _Blaine_."

"Kurt..."

His voice was weak and cracked. Kurt immediately rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor by the bed. His hand shot up to Blaine's forehead, gauging his temperature. His skin was scorching.

"Blaine, what happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Blaine's dry lips split as he spoke. "Can't...move...can't...think...need...you..."

"Sh..." Kurt fixed Blaine's blankets so that they covered him more adequately, and then stroked the sick boy's curly, gel-less hair. "Hey, I'm here, okay? Just relax." He paused for a moment. "Where are your parents?"

"Antigua."

Kurt nodded, and then stood. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten in a while, and you'll need strength if you're going to kick this thing in the butt. I'll go downstairs and make you some tea and soup, okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

Blaine nodded, and then laughed hoarsely. "I am the only one lame enough to come down with a cold in the hottest time of the summer."

Kurt bent down to kiss his boyfriend on the forehead. "You hush, silly. Try to sleep again. I'll come back with food soon."

He retreated downstairs to the Andersons' expansive kitchen and began to dash around, boiling water and grabbing ingredients from the cupboards and refrigerator. In no time, he had thrown together a meal of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and a cup of chamomile tea with honey. He carried this on a tray back upstairs to Blaine's bedroom, where the boy was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Kurt set the tray on the nightstand and shook Blaine lightly on the shoulder. "Sweetie...I've made you lunch. Do you think you can sit up?" He saw Blaine nod slightly, and helped prop him up against his headboard. He then began to scoop small spoonfuls of the soup through Blaine's lips.

They sat like that for a while, one boy trying to swallow, the other, perched beside him on the bed, nursing him back to health as he marveled at his ability to look beautiful even when he was ill. When Kurt was satisfied that Blaine had eaten enough, he passed him the cup of tea. Blaine had regained enough of his strength to hold the glass himself. After he drained it, Kurt replaced it on the tray. He assisted Blaine as he returned to his prone position, and then just sat there, holding his hand, pushing the curls away from his eyes as he fell asleep, occasionally wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. He stayed there for a while, the room growing slowly darker as the sun sank lower in the sky. Soon, he, too, grew fatigued, and he curled beside Blaine on the bed, still grasping his hand. In no time, both boys were dreaming together—incidentally, each about the other.


	5. Ambush

**Ambush**

The sun was particularly brutal, but that suited his needs nicely. He dragged a lawn chaise to a bright section of the yard. He shed his light pink bathrobe and draped it over the back of the chair. His short, tight, red swim trunks felt awkward; he despised the feeling of the plastic fabric against his sensitive skin, but that was a necessary evil; discomfort was a requisite of tanning. He reclined in the chair, head resting on the robe. He shut his eyes, but nothing went dark; the sunlight easily penetrated his thin eyelids, filling his entire world with warm, buttery yellow. The heat was a little too much for his preference, but he knew he wouldn't be outside long—his skin only needed slight darkening.

Unfortunately, his plan went awry when he fell asleep.

Another boy poked his head around the side of the house, grinning widely. He could clearly see that the first boy had begun to slumber, so he crept quietly forward, two objects in his hands. As he approached the sleeper, he slowed down, careful not to tread on the various sticks and nuts on the ground that could awaken him. With the speed of a snail, he gently laid one of the objects underneath the chaise. He quickly backed away about forty paces, took aim with his water gun, and squirted the sleeper square in the face.

"BLARGH!" The other boy shot up, clawing at his face, and looking about wildly. And then he saw him.

"BLAINE ANDERSON!"

Blaine's grin grew impossibly wider. "Well, hiya, Kurt, didn't see you there."

Kurt glowered, but felt his anger ebbing away rapidly. Those dancing eyes, that mischievous smile...he could never stay upset with his boyfriend for long.

"Blaine, what on _Earth _are you up to?"

Blaine twirled his plastic water rifle in his hands. "Not much, how about you?"

Kurt stood, his hands planted firmly on his hips. "Well, I _was_ trying to tan, you know, since it's _summer_, but then I was quite rudely interrupted by _somebody _and his _water gun_!"

Blaine couldn't help but smile as Kurt overemphasized his words. He loved his diva, and he particularly loved the rankled expression on his sweet face. "Well, _I _was hoping that _maybe _you would like to engage in a _super _fun water gun war with me."

Kurt wrinkled his nose in response to Blaine's mocking tone. "It's not much of a war when only one side has weapons."

Blaine nodded at the chaise, and Kurt turned around sharply.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Just then, Blaine let another stream of water land directly in the center of the back of Kurt's head. The resulting yelp and look of shock was priceless.

Kurt snatched the gun from the ground and whipped back to face Blaine. "The hair, Blaine? Really?" When the other boy merely smirked, he continued. "You are dead, Anderson. Dead."

"Bring it on, Hummel."

And it was on.

The pair dashed about the yard for some time, firing at each other and ducking behind various obstacles for cover. Occasionally, one would have to dart to the hose to refuel, and the other would immediately pound him with as much water as possible. They ran barefooted over the short grass, ignoring the dirt and the sticks and the sharp pain they often felt when they stepped on something. The sun lit their world on fire, but the water with which they bombarded each other kept them blissfully unaware of the blistering heat.

Eventually, however, the boys grew fatigued. Blaine held his water gun high in the hair, his other hand raised with it. "That's it!" he panted. "I'm done! I surrender! You have defeated me, General Hummel! You are the superior marksman!" With that, he dramatically tossed his weapon onto the soaked earth and bowed.

Kurt giggled, and also dropped his gun. "Sometimes I wonder about you, you know?"

The two met in the middle, collapsing on the chaise. It was much too small for the two of them, but they didn't mind. They sat together for a while, Blaine's head on Kurt's shoulder, hands interlocked. When the sun became too unbearable, however, they stood and walked slowly back inside.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand. "That was a lot of fun."

Blaine returned the gesture. "I thought you'd think so."

"You're still going to die for what you did to my hair, though."


	6. Liar

**Liar**

The hard plastic was so uncomfortable that every few minutes he was forced to squirm just a bit. Dozens of harried-looking people crossed in front of his eyes, but he paid them no mind. He was only there to wait. His black duffel bag rested on the floor against his leg. The noise of the airport was tumultuous, but he had been there for so long it had faded into nothingness. Instead, he held his head in his hands, eyes shut, singing a song silently.

"And if you have a minute why don't we go  
>Talk about it somewhere only we know?<br>This could be the end of everything,  
>So why don't we go<br>Somewhere only we know?"

He felt completely alone in the sea of people around him. His father had been standing in the never-ending line at the ticket window, trying to fix whatever problem he'd detected with their flight, and his mother was currently in the ladies' room, fixing her appearance before the trip.

The song in his head drowned out the sounds of the boots bustling toward him. He barely heard someone sit next to him; he didn't look up, assuming it was just his mother.

Then a voice whispered into his ear, "Well, hey there, handsome."

He started, and then looked up. "_Kurt?_"

Kurt smiled. "Hey Blaine."

Blaine's head whipped back and forth, searching for his parents. Luckily, neither was in sight. "Kurt, what're you doing here? I told you you didn't have come!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, amazed at his boyfriend's slowness. "Yes, that's what you _told _me. But what I _heard _was, 'I'm scared that my parents are going to figure out that we're dating, so please don't come.' Did I translate Blaine-speak correctly?"

Despite himself, Blaine chuckled. "Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, you know that, Hummel?"

Kurt beamed, and the look sent a shiver of something down Blaine's spine. He grabbed Kurt's hand, and the two reclined in their ridiculously uncomfortable seats for minute. Blaine saw his father's large back toward the front of line; he knew that in a short time he would be returning, and if Kurt was still there, awkwardness would ensue. Of course, he could count on his mother to spend every last second before take-off in front of the mirror, powdering her face or doing God knows what else in the bathroom.

"So why did you come, Kurt?" He felt like he needed to break the silence, though the concourse was far from quiet.

Kurt sighed, and squeezed the hand he held. Before he answered, he gazed out the huge glass windows in front of him as a jet tore off down the runway, eventually curling up into the hazy sky. "Eight days is far too long, Blaine. To go from Sunday to Sunday without seeing you? Pure torture. I know we talked last night, but...it wasn't going to hold me over."

Blaine laughed lightly. "It isn't as though I'll be entirely incommunicado this week, Kurt!" The soft blue eyes he stared into were tearing up. Now he squeezed Kurt's hand. "I'll have my phone on me the whole time, and you can text or call me whenever."

"That's nice but..." Kurt's voice trailed off. He looked away.

"Hey." Blaine lifted his free hand and guided Kurt's soft chin back toward himself. "But what?"

"It's not the same as seeing you."

Kurt wanted to burn the look on Blaine's face into his memory forever. He wanted to see it every time he shut his eyes, because it was pure beauty. His golden eyes danced in the sunlight that poured in from the glass walls, and the softest, brightest smile illuminated his face. He seemed simply serene.

"I know _e_x_actly _how you feel."

And then he leaned in, and without hesitation pressed his lips tenderly against Kurt's, breathing in his heavenly scent. Kurt lost all feeling everywhere except for his face.

The kiss didn't last long. It didn't have to. Everything that the two needed to say to each other was said. They both stood and embraced each other. Blaine heard Kurt sniffle softly in his ear.

"Hey," he murmured. "It's just a stupid family reunion. I'll be back before you have the chance to miss me."

"Liar." Blaine smiled at this. "I already miss you."

"I love you, Kurt Hummel."

"I love you more, Blaine Anderson."

"Liar."

* * *

><p>Hey guys, thanks a million to everyone who favorited my story. It really meant a lot to me, considering this is the first FanFic I've ever written. I'm afraid I must impose on you further and beg you to please review me. I want to know if I suck, honestly! That, and I REALLY need suggestions. Rather desperately. As I said in a previous chapter, I'm looking for mostly fluff-stuff, or some light (emphasis on the LIGHT) drama.<p>

In regards to this chapter, I know that all of my one-shots are stand-alones, but this one and the next one are connected. I mean, if you don't want to read one, and you want to read the other, you're not going to be confused or anything. But I'm just saying that the story line is the same (Blaine's trip).

Sorry, I'm rambling.


	7. Reunions

**Reunions**

His eyelids felt as though they were made of lead as he slid his duffel bag onto his shoulder. He jumped out of his father's SUV, slamming the door shut behind him. The whole week had been unbearably stressful; he had spent the vast majority of it dodging questions concerning to his relationship status and his personal life. His extended family had no need to know of his "condition," as his father so indelicately phrased it on the plane ride to New York City, where the family reunion was held, and he had been instructed to keep quiet about it. Though he always despised hiding his true self, he didn't feel it was necessary to rock that boat.

He shuffled to the door behind his mother, who rolled her large suitcase behind her. Not even bothering to help his parents with their luggage, he immediately climbed all three flights of the grand staircase up to his bedroom. He reached the door, labeled with a small, hand-drawn sign reading, "BLAINE'S BEDROOM: PLEASE KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING," and shoved it open with sigh.

He then had to stifle a shout of shock.

"_Kurt!_"

Stretched across his light blue comforter, head rested on his fluffy pillow, was his boyfriend. Kurt smiled and winked at him. "Well hey, Blaine!"

Blaine rushed into his room and closed the door quickly. Keeping his voice low, he demanded, "God, Kurt, what're you doing here? Are you out of your mind?"

Kurt sat upright, looking slightly hurt. "I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Blaine tossed his duffel bag into his open closet, not bothering to unpack. "Thought that you'd break into my house, hide out in my room, risk both your life and mine just to—to—" He couldn't finish. He saw Kurt's crystal blue eyes brimming over with tears. He felt like slapping himself.

He slowly walked over to the bed, sitting beside Kurt. He placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "God, I am so sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean...I'm so sorry..."

He felt Kurt's hand on his knee, and he looked up. The other boy's face was etched with concern. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

Kurt noticed that Blaine's normally pale skin was tinged with green, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around him.

Blaine fell deeply into Kurt's embrace. He had so much to say, but it was too difficult, and there was no way to say it right. He decided to keep it simple. "I missed you so much, Kurt."

And then they were kissing, passionately, desperately, a week's worth of loneliness and frustration emptying out before each other. When they split apart, both were smiling, eyelashes wet.

They were lost in each other's eyes for a moment, before Blaine leapt from the bed. "Kurt, I'm so glad to see you—I mean, you really have no idea how much I've missed you."

"Bet I do," Kurt interjected softly.

Blaine smiled, but quickly grew serious again. "This whole week I've had to lie about who I am to everyone around me, and it killed me inside, it absolutely killed me, because all I could think about was you and how much I love you and how ashamed I was to be denying you in front of my entire family, when really none of them matter to me, not one, not like you do—"

Kurt, too abandoned his spot on the bed, strode over to where Blaine was pacing, and interrupted his rambling with a kiss. This one was softer, sweeter, shorter, less urgent. Kurt pulled away, but kept his hands on either side of Blaine's face.

"Blaine Anderson," he said slowly. "You listen to me. I accepted a long time ago that sacrifices are going to be made if we're going to be together. It's just something we have to deal with. And if you have to lie to your family to please your father, so be it."

"But that's just it, Kurt." Blaine's voice shook. "You can't be here. If my father...God, Kurt, if my _father _finds out you're here...we're both dead."

Kurt smiled. "Well, I can't sneak out now, can I?" When Blaine shook his head, he continued. "I guess that means I'm going to have to spend the night here." Before the other boy could object, he pressed on. "Really, do you think your parents are going to randomly burst in here in the middle of the night?"

Blaine snorted. "Please. My parents try to avoid me at all costs."

"Exactly. I'll leave in the morning, before they wake. I parked my car a little ways down the street, so it wouldn't attract attention."

Blaine couldn't think of an argument—his brain was far too tired to function properly. He and Kurt changed into pajamas—backs turned, for modesty's sake—and climbed into bed. Kurt could tell that Blaine was still fearful, so he slid his arms around the shorter boy, and hummed lightly in his ear. Soon, both were asleep, only to be awoken several hours later by an alarm on Kurt's phone. Kurt donned his normal clothes, and the two boys kissed goodbye. Then they parted ways.

But never for long.


	8. Without Fear

**Without Fear**

They stepped through the waist-high gate and were immediately caught up in a whirlwind of color and sound. Small children dashed about, vendors called out for prospective customers, and peals of laughter echoed through the dark sky. Hand-in-hand, they milled about, watching young boys shooting at plastic targets in vain attempts to win large stuffed animals, smelling the intoxicating scents of cotton candy and funnel cakes, listening to the screams of teenagers on the wooden roller coaster a few hundred yards away. The dead grass crunched under their feet as they wandered toward a booth.

"Step right, up, gentleman, if you dare!" A middle-aged man in a red-and-white-striped vest gestured toward his attraction, the bright white light above him illuminating his excited, albeit tired, face.

Blaine looked at his boyfriend. "What do you think?"

Kurt shook his head. "You know me. I have the athletic prowess of an elephant." He paused. "Well that was a bad analogy."

Blaine laughed, and then removed his wallet. "Fine then, wimpy." He handed the man a few crumpled bills, and lifted a plastic ring from the wooden peg from which it hung. "I guess I'll have to be the man here. I'm going to win you that Hello Kitty up there." He nodded to where the stuffed toy dangled from the roof of the booth.

Kurt giggled, and then composed his face seriously. "You had better, or else I'll have to live with the shame of dating someone who can't even get a ring around a few milk bottles."

With that, Blaine deftly tossed the first of his three rings into the pit in front of him. His goal was to snag the blue bottle that sat directly in the middle of a block of twenty-five—and he did just that. Kurt whooped appreciatively, and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck.

"Calm down," Blaine chuckled. "It isn't as though I cured cancer or anything."

The carnie removed the Hello Kitty toy from the roof and handed it to Blaine, who, in turn, bestowed it upon Kurt, who beamed. The carnie then cleared his throat, which caused both boys to look at him in surprise.

"You two might want to tone it down," he advised. "Not everyone around here's very...accepting...of unorthodox relationships."

Kurt's heart stopped. He hadn't really thought of that. It was so natural for him to express his feelings for Blaine, whether it be through hugging, hand-holding, arm-linking, or full-on kissing. He had long since grown out of his nervousness concerning their relationship; nothing that felt so right could be wrong.

Blaine, however, had thought of that before. He knew that at events such as county fairs, all kinds of people showed up—including those opposed to homosexuality. He also knew that he would die before he would allow _anyone _to stifle the love he shared with Kurt.

Before either of them could respond to the carnie, they heard a shout. "Hey guys! Where've you been?"

Both boys wheeled around. Approaching them quickly was Finn, so immense that he easily parted the crowd, with Rachel on his arm, scurrying to keep up. Behind them trailed Puck arm-in-arm with Mercedes, who was laughing uproariously over something Puck just said to her. (Kurt smiled at this. Even though Puck and Mercedes' relationship had quickly gone awry, he was very glad that they had remained fairly close friends.)

Kurt embraced his step-brother when he arrived, and Rachel after him. Blaine fist-bumped Finn and kissed Rachel on the cheek, earning eye-rolls from the entire party.

"One time..." Blaine muttered under his breath.

Kurt quickly slid his arm through Blaine's once more. "Where would you guys like to go first?"

Simultaneously, Finn, Puck, and Blaine yelled, "ROLLER COASTER!" to which Kurt and Rachel responded with a resounding, "NO!"

The boys groaned. "Let me guess," Puck said. He pointed at Kurt. "You don't want to mess up your hair, and you—" He pointed to Rachel. "You don't want to hurt your voice."

Both nodded vigorously.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's arm with his own. "Come on, babe, it'll be fun!"

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw Blaine's face. His eyes twinkled in the many lights of the fair, and the warm summer breeze had lifted a single strand of his hair from his ridiculously over-gelled head and was tossing it about in front of him. He looked so excited and adorable that it was almost sickening.

So instead, he replied with an exasperated, "Fine!" and allowed Blaine to guide him toward the wooden structure, leaving a betrayed Rachel behind him.

The group of six had almost made it to the end of line for the ride when they were stopped by two burly guys in jeans and torn t-shirts. They strode across the six's path, arms crossed and mouths pulled down into grimaces.

The one on the right spoke first, his voice husky and hard. "We don't want your kind here, fags."

The other young man nodded, a look of disgust plastered on his tan face. "Someone oughta knock some sense into you nutters. No one wants two dudes all over each other up in here. Take your blasphemy somewhere else."

Kurt shook, clinging to Blaine to prevent himself from collapsing. Before either of them could react, however, Finn and Puck moved first. Almost as if they'd rehearsed it, they walked around and stood tall in front of the two boys, stances strong and faces set. Rachel and Mercedes, too, moved to block Blaine and Kurt from the bigots' views; they each took one by the arm and tugged him back a few steps.

"You have something to say to my brother?" Finn growled, fists balled up at his sides.

Puck cracked his knuckles. "You stay away from my boys, or you'll know _exactly _how it feels to have sense knocked into you, Puckerman style. I ain't afraid to go back to juvie."

Kurt was too shocked to shake anymore. Blaine rubbed the arm he held, trying to regain some feeling in his knees.

The four big guys stared at each other for another minute, each pair daring the other to make a move. Neither did, however, and when the offenders noticed that many people were beginning to stop and watch the confrontation, they sneered and stalked off angrily.

Kurt released a shaky breath and, dropping the Hello Kitty on the ground, fell heavily against Blaine, who wrapped both arms around the other boy's shoulders. "Sh..." he whispered into Kurt's ear. "Hey now, it's alright." Blaine met the eyes of Finn and Puck over Kurt's head, and thanked them silently. The two smiled back.

"Hey guys, can you wait here for a second?" When the other four nodded, Blaine ushered Kurt through the crowd and over to a darker, more secluded area. "Hey." He lifted Kurt's chin up so their eyes locked together. "Are you alright?"

Kurt nodded, and inhaled deeply. "For a minute there...I thought we were goners." He laughed humorlessly.

They were silent for a second, seemingly at a loss for words, until Blaine spoke. "You know that...that if Finn and Puck weren't there...that I would have fought those morons, right?" When Kurt didn't answer, he continued. "I would've gotten my ass kicked, but I would have done it to protect you."

Finally, Kurt whispered, "I know, you idiot, why do you think I was so scared?"

They fell silent again, but only for a moment, as both soon burst into laughter. Blaine wrapped Kurt up in a hug. "Oh Kurt...I don't care. I don't care that a lot of people out there don't approve of us, of you and me together. I don't care that we make them uncomfortable, or that they think we're wrong. Because I will kiss you without fear up on the Jumbo-Tron at Yankee Stadium in front of thousands—nay, millions—because I love you, Kurt Hummel. You hear me? I love you."

Without a word, Kurt grabbed Blaine's face and kissed him. They were no longer at the Allen County Summer Fair. There was no one around them. They weren't even sure they were breathing. All they had were their faces and their lips and their hands and each other—and it was more than enough. For the longest time they embraced each other, completely at peace, until they fell apart, gasping and laughing uncontrollably. Holding hands, they returned to the group.

"Man!" Mercedes exclaimed when they stopped. She was clutching Kurt's Hello Kitty, which she immediately returned to him. "Boo, watching you two, I thought you were never going to kiss him! It was agonizing to watch."

Kurt stuck his tongue out at her, but laughed all the same. "Well, we always have been a little slow."

With that, the group of friends charged forth into the night, prepared for the worst, but only finding the best.

* * *

><p>Hey guys, I just want to give another shout-out to everyone who favorited and story-alerted my FanFic. It feels awesome. However, no one's reviewed me yet. This is bad for two reasons: a) I want to know in what respects in which I suck, so I can stop sucking; and b) I need ideas people! Unless your silence is your way of telling me to stop. In which case, just tell me so in a review.<p>

I especially ask that you review this chapter, because the idea was great in my head (well, it wasn't exactly MY idea...I kind of "borrowed" it from another FanFic I read, although I think I made the story entirely my own), but I feel that this was my weakest one. PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR OPINION! PLEASE!

If it helps, I'll stop rambling so much.


	9. Awkward

**Awkward**

It had been too long. Four days, thirteen hours, and six minutes, to be exact. A knock on the front door sent chills down his spine. He leapt from the couch, where he had been waiting impatiently, legs crossed and foot tapping against the coffee table. Before he knew it he was at the door, whipping it open. When he saw who was on the other side, he sighed in relief.

"Blaine."

Blaine smiled, his curly hair ungelled for once. Kurt's hand flew out and snatched Blaine's waist, pulling him in for hard, passionate kiss. The two stepped inside, lips still locked, slamming the door behind them. Kurt was silently praising his parents' and brother's absences from the home.

Blaine pulled away, laughing and gasping for air. "Well, hello to you, too!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "What else did you expect? I've only waited four days, thirteen hours, and..."—he pretended to consult a watch, though he wore none—"eight minutes for that."

Blaine raised a single triangular eyebrow. "Well then. Why don't we continue this conversation in a more suitable setting?"

Without hesitation, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and lead him upstairs, half-walking, half-running. When they reached Kurt's bedroom, Blaine kicked the door so it swung shut with a click. And then they began devouring each other, lips and teeth and tongues seemingly trying to reach every inch of skin showing. The two collapsed on the bed, panting and chuckling softly. They moved against each other, discarding shoes and socks quickly. From beneath Blaine's body, Kurt began unbuttoning the other boy's shirt. Simultaneously, Blaine allowed his teeth to graze down Kurt's earlobe, his mouth tracing the outline of his neck, down to the patch of skin where his shoulder began, pushing his sweater aside as he continued along his collarbone. Soon, Blaine's shirt lay forgotten on the floor, alongside their shoes, socks, and Kurt's sweater. Blaine's chaotic hair tickled Kurt's face as Blaine reached a hand up Kurt's undershirt, tracing every muscle and curve with the tips of his fingers.

Through their heavy breathing, loud motions, and thumping hearts, both boys failed to hear a car door slam out front. They neglected to notice the front door opening and shutting, or heavy footsteps on the stairs. They didn't even hear a hand turning the doorknob.

"Hey, is that Blaine's car out fr—OH MY GOD!"

Kurt screamed, and Blaine fell on the floor, still shirtless. Both stared in shock at Finn, who whipped around to face the hall again, eyes screwed shut.

"FINN HUDSON!"

"KURT! BLAINE!"

"Well hey!"

All three boys shouted at the same time. And then it was quiet. The awkward silence lasted for about a minute. Blaine and Kurt gaped at each other, unsure of what to do, and Finn remained motionless, trying desperately to mentally scour his memory.

Blaine moved first, lifting his shirt from the ground and donning it. He then sat beside Kurt on the bed, helping the other boy straighten himself up. Then he spoke. "Um...Finn...you can turn around now."

"No, I'm good." Finn mumbled, his face now buried in his hands.

"Don't you know how to _knock_?" Kurt snapped, finally regaining the ability to talk.

"Well _excuse _me if I didn't think I'd ever walk in on my brother and his boyfriend going at it!"

"And why would you ever assume that?"

The awkward silence descended again. This time, Finn broke it. "Okay, I'm going to go into my room to play Call of Duty. I honestly don't care what you two do, just as long as I don't hear it." He began to walk away, but then stopped. "Oh, and Anderson? I will be personally billing you for all of the therapy I'm going to be needing to recover from this one." With that he rushed into his bedroom, whipping the door shut behind him.

Blaine stood and closed the Kurt's door softly. When he turned back around, the two boys stared at each other for a moment, silently communicating with their eyes. Then they burst out laughing.

Kurt reached up and snagged Blaine hand, yanking him back onto the bed. "Well...that's going to take some smoothing over."

Blaine held onto his hand and laid down beside him. "He'll be alright. Just make sure he doesn't try to wash his eyes with bleach or anything."

The pair turned their heads toward each other, and spent a long moment gazing into each other's eyes—not communicating, just marveling.

Then Kurt lifted his eyebrow. "Well...where were we?"

Without another word, the lovers were kissing again, allowing their hands and lips to wander freely, loving the summer, and loving each other.

* * *

><p>Hey guys. I wrote this one for two reasons: one, I LOVE Furt, I think their brother hood is so perfect; and two, I've read in other stories scenes in which Finn walks in on Blaine and Kurt, and they are SO funny that I couldn't help but write one myself. Unfortunately, I don't think it turned out nearly as well as I hoped it would. Review me if you agree, or disagree, or have any ideas, because honestly, I don't just want them, I NEED them. I've only gotten one so far, and I'm not sure if I can write that one very well (although it was a GREAT suggestion, thanks smileyy!). Thanks guys!<p> 


	10. Under the Stars

**Under the Stars**

The stars twinkled above their heads, illuminating the black summer sky. The light from the nearly full moon danced toward them, sliding through the mosquito netting on the roof of their tent, which was strategically placed on the smoothest patch of grass as far from the back door of the Hummel-Hudson house as possible. The gentle June wind whispered against the forest green polyester walls around them, which grew darker as their eyes travelled from the top to the bottom, where the moonlight couldn't quite reach. The pair stretched on a thick, queen-sized air mattress, which they had covered with soft, yellow sheets. Their heads sunk into fluffy pillows, one beside the other. They snuggled deeply under the covers, cool but not cold. Of course, this snuggling was not merely prompted by temperature; any excuse to be closer to each other was gladly acted upon by the two.

And so they lay, fingers interlaced at their sides, gazing up into the heavens, each thinking his own thoughts. They remained that way for a while, simply silent, until one had a thought he couldn't help but share with the other.

"Hey Blaine?"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"How'd you talk my father into this?"

A grin spread across Blaine's face. He turned onto his right side, facing Kurt. He let go of Kurt's hand, propping himself up on his pillow, but immediately retook it with his left hand. "Well..." His facial expression grew mischievous. "He had mentioned to me in passing that he didn't think you spent enough time outdoors, so I proposed that I fix that."

Kurt, having removed his gaze from the sky and fixing it on his boyfriend's glorious face, cocked an eyebrow. "You did, did you?"

"Mhm!" Blaine nodded proudly. "So I told him how _right _he was, how I didn't think it was _healthy _for a boy your age to spend _so _much time cooped up indoors, how you needed to _break out _of your _comfort zone _a little, do something _different _for once. Of course, when your dad realized that my proposal involved you and me alone in a confined space for an entire night, he wasn't overjoyed—"

"Obviously," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine lifted his head so he could place the hand on which he had been resting on Kurt's pale cheek. "But I annoyed him just enough for him to concede without throwing me out of the house."

Kurt laughed. "You are such a con man."

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe it's time I turned my wiles on you." With that, he leaned forward, so slowly that Kurt swore that they were suddenly in the Matrix, and pressed his lips to his boyfriend's, softly and tenderly. It seemed to last forever, that kiss, but before Kurt knew it, Blaine had pulled back, a beautiful smile lighting up his face even in the dark.

"And what was that for?" Kurt whispered.

"That was for agreeing to all this." Blaine gestured around the tent with his right hand. "And for being you."

Without another word, the two were kissing passionately again, Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and Blaine placing a hand on either side of Kurt's pillow. Blaine's lips left Kurt's, travelling instead down the other boy's cheekbone, to his ear, down his neck, and back up again. He completed that same circuit a few times as Kurt lifted Blaine's shirt above his head. Kurt's stomach jumped slightly when he saw Blaine's chest and abs—the boy was gorgeous. Little did he know that the same exact feeling coursed through Blaine when Kurt discarded his own shirt. The hairs on their arms stood straight up, goosebumps dotting their skin, as they moved together, their bare torsos tickling each other. It seemed that their lips were on a mission to touch every inch of the other's skin, because Kurt wriggled underneath Blaine in order to trace his muscles with his tongue. Blaine, too, moved so he could place a hickey near Kurt's navel. Kurt squealed at this, and the noise only exhilarated the two even more. Kurt's hand flew to the elastic waistband of Blaine's pajama bottoms, and the two froze.

"Kurt, wait!" Blaine panted, gasping for air, still propped up above the other boy.

Kurt didn't move, his hand still on Blaine's waist, but his face completely confused. The lovers stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, silently communicating what each needed say. Then Blaine pushed himself over so he laid down next to Kurt once more. The two continued to search for their breaths while running over what went wrong in their heads.

"Blaine, I'm sor—"

"Kurt, I didn't mean—"

They stopped and laughed lightly at their attempts to speak at the same time. Then Kurt began again. "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking, I should've known not to go too far, this is all my fault, I—"

Blaine quieted his rambling with a short, sweet kiss. "Shut up, silly. This isn't your fault. We were both caught up in the moment. Honestly, if you had waited another fifteen seconds, I might not have stopped you." He paused, and then pressed on. "Kurt, I told you to wait because...I don't think either of us is ready for that, yet. I mean, I know I'm not..."

"I'm not either!" Kurt whispered. "I seriously don't know what I was thinking. I don't think I could've handled it if we...tonight..." He didn't have to finish.

By this point the two boys were on their sides once more, looking deeply into each other's eyes. Wordlessly they agreed to just move on, to let the incident go. It didn't matter. They knew where they were physically. They knew each other inside and out (metaphorically). Choosing not to replace their shirts, they straightened out the sheets and laid beside each other, gazing once more into the night skies above, occasionally whispering sweet nothings to each other and squeezing the hand they held.

Soon, both were fast asleep, each dreaming of the other.

When the first few rays of sunlight barged unannounced into their tent, Blaine awoke, groggy. The previous nights was one of the best the two had shared together, and he wasn't ready for it to be over. He grabbed his shirt from where it lay forgotten from the night before and pulled it over his tangled curls. His movement disturbed Kurt, who began to stir.

"Hey, you," Blaine whispered, wrapping his arms around the half-asleep boy. Without realizing why, he began to sing.

"The sun  
>Telling me the night is done.<br>Well, I refuse to let it stop  
>Our fun.<br>Close your eyes,  
>And make it dark again.<br>And a kiss—  
>There's a thought so how 'bout this:<br>Let's pretend that both our lips  
>Are made of candy.<br>After all, we need sweets every now and then.  
>Don't you want the way I feel?<br>Don't you want the way I feel?  
>Don't you want the way I feel for you?"<p>

By the end, Kurt's eyes had fluttered open, and then two were wrapped in a strong embrace, simply glad to be with each other.

"I love you, Kurt."

"I love you, too, Blaine."

Nothing else really needed to be said.

* * *

><p>Okay, let me start out by saying that I received a lot of reviews today, and they were so sweet that I actually started crying. No joke. Thank you all so much for your support. You have no idea what it means to me.<p>

That being said, I am very, very greedy, and I would love some more. Please suggest any topics you'd like me to discuss, or events you'd like to see happen, or areas in which you think I could use some improvement. Honestly, as long as you're not rude, I would LOVE to hear you have to say. (I mean, you can be rude, but I'll just delete your email, so it's not like it'll matter.)

Oh, and the first person to identify the _A Very Potter Musical _reference in this chapter gets a virtual bear hug!


	11. The Deal

**The Deal**

His heart raced, his eyes frantically searching the room. The white light above his head made everything hotter, and he couldn't breathe properly. His hands crashed upon every surface in the bathroom: countertop, mirror, cupboard, sink, shower. He upended every item in the room, and collapsed upon the floor.

They were gone.

He had placed them there just the night before. He was sure of it. He closed his eyes and visualized the previous night's events: he walked in, set his bag down, pulled them out of said bag, walked into the bathroom, and set them on the counter. He could watch himself as clearly as if he had been videotaped.

So where could they be?

He sat there, suffering mental anguish, until he realized what had happened.

"KURT!"

Blaine's bellow could be heard from all the way downstairs, where Kurt and Finn lounged on the couch, watching Saturday morning cartoons. Both boys took their eyes of off _Spongebob_ and glanced slyly at each other, grinning from ear to ear.

"It took him long enough," Finn muttered.

Kurt nodded wisely. "Well, he always was a little slow."

Just then, the two heard thundering footsteps crashing down the stairs behind them. They turned in time to see Blaine fly into the room dressed most peculiarly: he wore his socks, his boxers, his half-buttoned white dress shirt, and his loosely knotted Dalton tie. To complete the look, his hair flew every which way, haphazardly curly and falling into his eyes.

"Kurt. Hummel." Blaine's voice was deadly calm. "What did you do with my hair gel?"

The boys on the couch fought hard to stifle their grins. "Blaine. Anderson." Kurt tried desperately to mimic the tone of his boyfriend, but his giggles were threatening to spill over. "What are you talking about?"

Blaine threw his hands into the air. "I _know _you took my hair gel, Kurt! I put those jars in your bathroom last night, and now they're gone. You're the only other person who uses that room, Kurt! The only one! Who else would have taken them besides, you, anyways?" He crossed his arms and glared pointedly at Kurt's innocent expression.

"Blaine," Kurt said calmly. "I haven't seen your hair gel in weeks. Honestly, perhaps you just forgot them—"

Blaine cut him off, gesturing madly with his hands. "You know very well that I didn't _forget _them, Kurt! I never go _anywhere _for the night without my gel! Besides, we have the thing with the Warblers today, and if I don't come at my most dapper, Wes may actually kill me!"

The Warblers had been asked to perform at the retirement ceremony for one of the school governors. Kurt had been invited along, because, even though he had transferred back to McKinley, he was still considered an honorary Warbler. That was why he knelt on the couch in his old Warbler uniform, tie and all, gazing amusedly at his distraught boyfriend, trying (and most failing) to keep a straight face.

Blaine suddenly shifted his glare to Finn. "I know you're in on this."

Finn's eyes widened, and he threw up his hands. "Hey, man, I never get in the middle of a lovers' quarrel."

The three took a silent moment to nod appreciatively at Finn's surprising knowledge of the word "quarrel."

Then Blaine began yelling again. "Kurt, if I don't tame this mane, I can't go! I cannot have anyone seeing me in my Dalton uniform without my hair slicked back! It will be the end of me! If Wes doesn't kill me, the others will surely laugh at me until I'm forced to kill myself."

Finn shrugged. "Well, I've now see my brother's boyfriend in his boxers, so, really, not much else could scar me at this point." With that he turned back around to resume his cartooning.

Kurt carefully stood up, ensuring his uniform stayed neat and unwrinkled, and walked slowly over to Blaine, who shook from rage. Kurt placed his hands on the shoulders of the half-naked boy. "I'll make you a deal." When Blaine cocked an eyebrow, he continued. "I will tell you where your hair gel is, and in return, you must go the rest of the summer without it."

Blaine's jaw dropped so fast and so far that Kurt thought for a moment that it had become detached. "Are you out of your _mind_?" Blaine screeched. "The whole _summer_? I have to go around with this mop on my head for another month and half?"

Kurt nodded cruelly, an evil smile upon his face. Blaine sighed in concession. Kurt took his boyfriend by the hand and led him up the stairs. He quickly ducked into Finn's room and dug out the jars from between Finn's mattress and box spring. He handed them to Blaine, who turned to dash into the bathroom. Before he could, however, Kurt grabbed him by the tie and pulled him in for a kiss. When they pulled apart, Blaine was smiling.

"The things we do for love," he murmured.

* * *

><p>Hey guys, I'm appealing to you once more for IDEAS! I know you guys have them, because if you're on a site like this then you have to be some kind of brilliant. I honestly don't care if you think it's stupid. I will seriously consider ANYTHING you may suggest. I only have one or two more story ideas in my back pocket, so if you want this series to continue, then please message me SOMETHING I can use! Please!<p>

Oh, and you have no idea how much fun I had picturing Darren Criss in his socks, boxers, shirt, and tie. Like, way too much fun.


	12. Plunge

**Plunge**

The sun glared at the children laughing and running about on the slippery concrete. A gentle breeze blew through the pool area, swirling the scent of chlorine and sweat into the air. Splashes and screams echoed through the park, but it all seemed very distant to him. His knees shook slightly as he stood, towering above it all, staring directly at his bare feet. He heart crashed in his chest, and his breathing was labored.

_What the hell am I doing here? _he thought for the umpteenth time.

Just then, pruny hands wound around his waist. "How are you doing over there?"

Still not looking up, Blaine sighed. "I don't think I can do this."

Kurt smiled, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Hey, you got me to go swimming in a public pool. If you can do that, you can do anything." He pressed his lips against Blaine's neck lightly.

"It's just..." Blaine's voice trailed off. It took a few deep breaths before he was composed enough to continue. "Kurt, I seriously hate heights." He spoke so softly that if Kurt's ear hadn't been so close to Blaine's mouth, Kurt might have missed his words.

Kurt moved even closer to Blaine, wrapping him in a tighter hug, his light blue swim trunks rubbing against Blaine's hot pink pair. "Hey, you. Just close your eyes and fall. It's that simple."

"No, it's not, Kurt!" Blaine's voice cracked. "That's a seriously long fall! What if miss the water and die?"

Kurt didn't answer right away, because he wanted to make sure that Blaine wasn't kidding. When he was satisfied that he was in fact not only serious, but clearly psychotic, he grabbed Blaine by the shoulders and spun him around. "Hey!" His voice was sharp. "You listen to me, mister. Courage, you remember that? When I was facing my worst fear day in and day out, you told me courage, and I made it through. I had you then, and you have me now!" With that he planted a kiss tenderly but firmly upon Blaine's rather startled lips. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "Hey, you jump, I jump, remember?"

That line sufficiently distracted Blaine from his worries. He rolled his eyes. "You are such a dork, you know that?"

Kurt didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Blaine's hand and jumped feet-first off of the high dive. He beamed broadly as Blaine's shrieks of fear and exhilaration pierced the warm summer air. Before they knew it, they were submerged in green-blue water, the sounds of the other patrons of the pool and the nearby roadway suddenly quieted by the pristine water. Still holding hands, the lovers' heads broke the surface, gasping deeply and sputtering.

"Kurt!" Blaine screeched. "Are you out of your mind? What is wrong with you?"

Laughing hysterically, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. "Come on," he whispered. "You can't tell me that you didn't enjoy that a little."

"I most certainly did not!" Blaine's voice was sure, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him. However, instead of calling him out on his lie, Kurt chose to kiss his boyfriend deeply. Of course, once he did so, Blaine could not help but forget his indignation and kiss back with just as much enthusiasm.

When they broke apart, Blaine smirked. "Want to go again?"


	13. Movie Magic

**Movie Magic**

The dark room smelled of popcorn and feet. Light whispers floated through the stifling air as small groups of people wound their way through the aisles, searching for the best seats. Random facts from the world of film flashed across the screen, occupying the attentions of anyone who hadn't thought to bring an iPod or cell phone. Two boys entered this room from the left side and slowly began climbing the stairs, eyes searching each row for a pair of red-padded seats. Unfortunately, many of the seats were already claimed, and they were forced to retreat to the top row, all the way in the corner. An aisle separated their two sets from the main body of the theatre.

"This sucks," one mumbled.

"Why, Blaine?" Kurt asked, taking a sip from his Diet Pepsi.

"Because everyone knows the middle is the best!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew that Blaine took movie-watching quite seriously, but since they were only seeing a sappy, generic romantic comedy, he didn't see what the big deal was. They only chose this one because all of the other available movies were either pointless action films or ones they'd already seen.

Blaine sighed, and ripped into one of his two packages of Red Vines. Kurt didn't comment on this; the two had made silent agreement to never discuss their favorite red licorice, for Kurt loved Twizzlers while Blaine vehemently preferred Red Vines.

Soon the deafening previews began to play, and both boys covered their ears, grinning at each other. They began to communicate with their eyes, as they often did during class at Dalton.

Kurt: _Why on Earth are these things so loud?_

Blaine: _Maybe they think that if they scream their movie at you, you'll have to see it._

Kurt: _I wonder if they realize that the more they annoy me, the less likely I am to go see their dumb movie._

Blaine: _Wow._

Kurt: _What?_

Blaine: _You are so hot when you're indignant._

Kurt raised an eyebrow, and then returned his glance to the giant screen in front of him. The movie had begun, upbeat string music and all. Within half an hour, Kurt's soda was empty and Blaine was out of Red Vines. They looked at each other once more.

"Alright," Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear; Kurt shivered slightly at the feeling of Blaine's breath on his neck. "Who's hotter: that guy—" He pointed at the screen. "—or that guy?" He pointed to a different character.

Kurt wrinkled his brow in concentration. "Hm..." He smiled. "I know." He turned to Blaine. "This guy." He leaned into Blaine and kissed him passionately.

Blaine responded enthusiastically, sliding one hand up into Kurt's hair, the other reaching for his knee. A soft, feral noise sounded from the back of his throat, and it raise goosebumps along Kurt's arms. Kurt slid a hand up Blaine's shirt and laughed quietly. Soon, both pairs of lips had left each other, choosing instead to trace along cheeks, ears, necks, and collarbones. The movie had been long forgotten; there were too many other interesting things in the room, such as the way Blaine's curly hair fell into his eyes, or the way the light from the screen bounced off of Kurt's irises.

They didn't hear the murmurs of discontent from the others in the row. They didn't see the sneers or glares of contempt. They didn't notice a pair of older women get up and leave the theatre in protest.

They were in their own world, and they were all that mattered.

When the movie ended, the two broke apart, laughing and looking around in surprise.

"Well, that was a good show," Blaine smirked.

They stood up, collected their belongings, and began the long climb downward toward the exit, holding hands the entire way. "I agree," Kurt nodded. "The ending was particularly spectacular."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't know...it got kind of hot there in the middle. I know I especially appreciated it."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he threw his trash away. "You are so corny sometimes."

Blaine's smile widened, and he placed a chaste kiss upon Kurt's lips. "Only for you, babe," he sighed. "Only for you."

* * *

><p>I would just like to apologize now for the incredibly cheesiness of the title. I mean, I legit hate it. But I couldn't come up with anything else.<p>

Speaking of not being able to come up with anything else, I NEED IDEAS! Seriously! Give me something fluffy and adorable that I can write about! If you do, I'll give you a shout-out when I write it! Promise!


	14. Revelation

**Revelation**

He was a man on a mission. The glow of the screen before his eyes burned after a while, but he ignored the pain, the outcome of a successful search was much more important that a short period of discomfort. His curly hair stuck slightly to the back of his neck; in his madman's rush to his computer, he had forgotten to turn on the fan, so the room was stifling. Fifteen minutes of furious typing and scrolling caused his finger to ache.

Then he found it.

Shaking with anticipation, he clicked the little triangle in the bottom left corner of the screen.

"Oh. My. God," he whispered in awe.

* * *

><p>A thundering knock on the front door ripped his attention from an article in an old issue of <em>Vogue. <em>He extracted himself from the couch and slouched to answer the knock, irritated by whoever had the audacity to interrupt _Vogue _time.

He swung open the door, and was thoroughly surprised by the caller.

"_Blaine_? What're you doing here?"

Without waiting for an invitation, Blaine barged into the Hudson-Hummel home, flying over to the couch. "Come here, Kurt!" He set the laptop he carried on the coffee table and booted it up.

Startled by Blaine's insistence, Kurt closed the door slowly and approached the couch, nervous. "Blaine?" he asked tentatively. "Are you feeling okay, baby?"

Blaine nodded dismissively as Kurt sat beside him, Google Chrome already pulled up on the screen. His cursor hovered over a bookmarked link, and then he finally seemed to slow down.

He turned to face Kurt's completely befuddled expression. "Okay, so I was talking to Mercedes earlier..."

"Oh, that's never good," Kurt groaned.

Blaine smiled. "Well, I like keeping in touch with the New Directions. They're my friends, too, you know. Anyways, we were talking, and she might've...let something slip..."

Kurt paled. What could Mercedes have possibly told him that got him so excited?

Blaine continued. "I guess...well, let me show you what I found—well, spent _forever _digging through the Internet for, actually."

Then he clicked the mouse once.

A video began to play. Kurt clapped his hands over his mouth, utterly in shock. He stared at the screen, red coloring creeping up his neck.

He was going to _kill _Mercedes.

About halfway through, he slammed the laptop shut, effectively stopping the video. Without even looking at Blaine, he buried his head in his hands.

"You were _not _supposed to see that," he mumbled.

Blaine, trying desperately to hold back the flood of giggles that was threatening to break through, rubbed Kurt's hunched back in small circles. "Oh, baby." He tried to sound soothing, but his voice shook with laughter. "It's not that bad."

"It _is _that bad!"

Blaine couldn't actually argue with him—it _was_ that bad. So he placed a hand gingerly under Kurt's chin and lifted it up so they gazed into each other's eyes. "Actually," he said, voice low. "I thought it was kind of hot." Kurt raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, but Blaine continued. "No, really. I mean, who knew what spandex could do to a guy's figure?"

Kurt laughed shakily. "I still can't believe you found that...I thought I put every protection on that imaginable...only friends could see it..."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Kurt, is there a website on which we _aren't _friends?"

Kurt's brow wrinkled. "Good point."

Blaine chuckled. "Come here, silly." He pulled his boyfriend's face toward his own and kissed it passionately. Kurt groaned and leaned into it, letting the scent of Blaine's excitement wash over him. The sound brought back Blaine's light laughter. "You like?"

Kurt, now comfortably situated on Blaine's lap, his arms wrapped around the other boy's neck, nodded, his lips trailing over his boyfriend's face. "I like."

Blaine's lips travelled over to Kurt's ear, where he whispered, "Then you should've put a ring on it."

* * *

><p>It had to be done. I know this story line (Blaine discovering Kurt's "Single Ladies" video) is somewhat old, but it had to be done. Thanks a MILLION TRILLION BILLION to cloudysock for the suggestion of detective!Klaine! I hope I did it some justice! I laughed hysterically while writing this, so I hope you guys like it, too.<p>

Keep the reviews and suggestions coming, people! I like 'em, I love 'em, I want some more of 'em!

Oh, and Sarah C.? Stop berating me for my terrible titles! Okay, I know I suck! Leave me alone! (Love you, girl...)


	15. Less Than Three

**Less Than Three**

Snuggling under his comforter, his skin felt fresh and new after his extensive moisturizing routine. The bright green numbers of his digital clock read 12:57. He sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair. He knew it was late, and he really should get some sleep—after all, he did have an outing with the New Directions planned for the next day, and bowling would require his concentration—but he couldn't resist saying goodnight. He snatched his phone from the nightstand, its glow stinging his eyes in the dark. He began to compose a new text.

_Hey babe, I hope I don't wake you. I just want to say goodnight. And I miss you. And I love you. And I really want to kiss you right. There's some other stuff, too, but I am definitely not writing it down so you can use it against me at a later date. So for now, just...what I already said. Yeah. -LTT K_

He knew he babbled, but it didn't matter. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>Thoroughly absorbed in his book, he almost didn't hear the vibration of his cell phone against the wood of his nightstand. He stretched a hand out, never taking his eyes off of the page, retrieving the device. When he found a suitable break point in the story, he looked at the phone. A grin broke across his face as he saw who the sender was. He quickly propped himself up on his elbows so he could more properly view the screen, and read the text. When he got through the sixth sentence, he raised a triangular eyebrow. <em>There's some other stuff, too, but I am definitely not writing it down so you can use it against me at a later date.<em>

Well, what did _that _mean?

Instead of pondering the various implications of such a statement, he decided to be straightforward.

_Don't worry—I'm just reading _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix _for what must be the zillionth time. I'm glad you texted me; I wanted to say goodnight, too. Unfortunately, I can't say it now, but that would effectively end the conversation, and that can't happen until you tell me what exactly you mean by, "some other stuff." -LTT B_

Even though he hadn't sent it yet, he could practically see the different shades of red his boyfriend would turn as he tried to come up with a response. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>The phone vibrated in his hand. He slid the bar at the bottom of the screen jerkily, excited to read his boyfriend's words. He did so, slowly growing hot in the face. He should never have sent that first text. It took him several minutes before he come up with a reply that could both satisfy the other boy and retain his dignity.<p>

_I just mean, you know, be with you. I really enjoy just sitting with you, even when we're not saying anything, or really doing anything. The silence is comforting. Sometimes it gets so...hectic...around here that the simplicity of _us _is perfect. -LTT K_

He hoped he would buy it. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>This time, he didn't bother searching for an appropriate stopping point in the novel. He whipped his phone open and scanned the new text, reading the entire thing through once, and then each word individually.<p>

It was sweet, but it was BS.

He didn't have to think of his answer; the words simply fell from his fingers.

_Babe, that was really beautiful, and I honestly think you meant it. However, I know that that's not what you were referring to in your original text. You are the worst liar on the planet, even when I can't see your face. Just tell me what you were talking about! I promise not to give you too much grief about it. :) -LTT B_

He laughed quietly at the look of disappointment that would grace his boyfriend's face when he realized his lie had been spotted. It wasn't his fault, really; they just knew each other too well to lie effectively. He hoped that this text would prompt the other boy to be honest. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>He grimaced as he read the latest text. He should've known better than to ever try and cover up his blunder. His boyfriend could read him like a book, whether through spoken, written, or no word at all. Sighing, he began to craft his reply.<p>

_Look, it's not that big of a deal. I just meant_

What did he mean? Even he wasn't sure. What was that "some other stuff" he'd wrote about? He shouldn't be allowed to talk to other human beings; nothing ever came out right.

_Look, it's not that big of a deal. I just meant...sometimes, when I'm just around, doing whatever, not really thinking about anything, you'll come along, and I get these shivers. Not in a creepy way or anything. I just have this...need...to be close to you. In any way. And when we're apart...I burn a little. Oh, this all sounds so DUMB...I give up. Make of that what you will. -LTT K_

He knew he shouldn't leave it there. He shouldn't say any of it at all, actually. He should just stop the conversation entirely and go to sleep.

But he didn't. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>He was honestly surprised he even got a response. He was sure that his boyfriend would just ignore his demands and leave the conversation—and his curiosity—hanging. But he didn't.<p>

Maybe he didn't know that other boy as well as he thought he did.

He brushed that thought away. He knew his boyfriend better than he knew himself; he made it his job to do so. He wanted to know everything about the porcelain-skinned wonder with whom he had so long ago determined he was going to spend the rest of his life.

When he read the text, an odd sensation swept through his body. It was both hot and cold, and it touched every inch of skin, inside and out. His stomach danced a little, and his heart beat faster—much faster.

_I just have this...need...to be close to you. In any way._

Well, it wasn't as though he couldn't empathize; how many nights had he lain awake, gazing at his ceiling, sending desperate thoughts of love and adoration to the boy several hours away who, little did he know, was doing the exact same thing? It was true that this answer wasn't one that he had been expecting, but, honestly, it was more open and real than anything he had predicted—and more G-rated, but that was neither here nor there.

He racked his brains, needing just the right words to phrase everything he was bursting to say—but nothing fit. He thought sappy, he thought fluffy, he thought raunchy, it didn't matter. He seemed to have lost all of his eloquence and articulation.

So he went back to the basics—and really, who needed more than that?

_I really, really love you, you know that? -LTT B_

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't complicated. It wasn't intelligent. But it was right. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>He was afraid to look at the reply. He came across as an inarticulate bumble in his last text, and he was sure that he had utterly confused his boyfriend—hell, he had utterly confused himself.<p>

When he read the words on his screen, his crystal blue eyes welled up. In any other relationship, that sentence could easily been seen as a way to shirk coming up with a real response, but that was not the case with these two boys.

This was the basics—and really, who needed more than that?

_I know. -LTT K_

The basics. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>He grinned. Checking the time in the top corner of his phone, he realized that it was nearing two in the morning. He knew of his boyfriend's plans for the next day—technically, this same day—and he didn't want to keep him up any longer. He stared at the signature of the last text for just another moment, and then finally worked on saying goodnight.<p>

_Well, my prince, I refuse to keep you from your magical dreamland for one more minute. Sleep, because I don't think the entire New Directions will be able to handle a grumpy, sleep-deprived diva like you for an entire day—especially one wearing rented shoes. I'll talk to you tomorrow, lover. I promise. And I love you. And some other stuff. :) -LTT B_

Thinking of how grouchy his boyfriend would be in the morning, his grin widened. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>He rolled his eyes. He was <em>not <em>a diva.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of _course _he was a diva.

He sighed. The other boy was right. He curled more comfortably under his sheets, and typed his final reply into the phone.

_Goodnight, love. -LTT K_

He yawned. He hit Send.

* * *

><p>Soon, both boys were fast asleep, wandering together in their respective magical dreamlands.<p>

* * *

><p>Okay, so, in my personal opinion, that was the best chapter so far. When I started it, I had no idea where it was going. And then it just...happened. I was crying halfway through. Sorry if that sounds pretentious or anything, but I am really proud of this one.<p>

To explain the signatures: they were supposed to be an less than sign followed by a three, but for some JACKED UP, UNKNOWN REASON, this site CAN'T HANDLE THAT, so we'll pretend that LTT is a text heart. And if you can't pretend that, then...that sucks for you.

To people who were befuddled by the "magical dreamland" thing, don't worry. Only twenty or so people on the planet will understand it. It's from a...well, it's a really long story, and an inside joke, and you can pretty much just ignore it. It just popped into my head, and I HAD to stick it in there.

The first person who reviews/messages me with the AVPM reference I stuck in here gets a virtual bear hug!

And other shout-out to cloudysock, just for being awesome.


	16. New York

**New York**

He lounged on the couch next to his brother, staring mindlessly at the television. He wasn't even sure which cartoon he was watching; he just knew it was dumb. Still in his silk pajamas, he yawned. His breakfast of banana oatmeal had been filling, and he felt sleepy again, even though he'd slept nearly twelve hours the night before.

A knock on the door broke his attention away from the nothingness. He knew his brother was too absorbed in the program to even notice, and his father and stepmother were in the kitchen still. He lugged himself into a standing position, and pulled the door open when he reached it.

A whirlwind of brown curls and high-pitched babble nearly knocked him over.

"Did you hear? How could you not have heard, it's all anyone's talking about! This is the greatest news I've ever gotten in my whole life! Do you know what this means for us? For our future? I can't believe it—I'm on cloud nine right now—no, cloud eleven! Oh my God, Kurt aren't you just excited?"

Blaine said all of this very fast.

Kurt stared at his boyfriend, too tired to understand anything that just poured out of his mouth. Finn looked at the pair of them from on the couch, his facial expression one of utter confusion. Burt and Carole walked into the room, concerned about the ruckus they had heard from the kitchen.

"What's going on in—Blaine? What are you doing here?" Burt asked.

Blaine's eyes lit up with pure excitement. "Don't you guys know?" When the Hudson-Hummel family stared back at him blankly, he sighed in exasperation. "Don't you guys watch the news?" He reached over the back of the couch and snatched the remote out of Finn's hand, ignoring the taller boy's "Hey!" of protest. He then changed the channel to CNN.

There it was. In big bold letters. Right there in front of them.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered.

"I know." Blaine wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's waist as the family of four gazed in awe at the television.

"Blaine!"

"I know!"

"_Blaine!_"

"I—" Before Blaine could finish, Kurt threw his arms around his neck, sobbing joyfully into his shirt. Blaine rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's back.

"Ahem!" When Burt cleared his throat, the hugging boys jumped apart and looked at him. "Look, I get why you two are so excited—I honestly do—but keep in mind that you two are just teenagers—"

"Dad!" Kurt groaned.

"No, listen!" Burt raised his hands defensively. "I married my high school sweetheart, too, and Lord knows I don't regret it, but statistically speaking, those marriages don't usually work."

Kurt, grabbing Blaine's hand, said, "That's nice, Dad, but you'll notice that very little about our relationship could be characterized as 'usual.'" He cut across Burt's protests. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a conversation with my boyfriend." Without another word he dragged Blaine upstairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

He turned to face the shorter boy, his face aglow with excitement. "Blaine, I want to wait."

Blaine's brow wrinkled with befuddlement. "Uh...wait for what?"

Kurt sat on his bed and motioned for Blaine to follow suit. When he did, Kurt grabbed his hand again. "Blaine...I've known for a long time—a really long time—that I want you to be my first. My only. I always wondered when...the right time would be, because I want it to be perfect."

"Oh, Kurt..." Blaine began, but Kurt shook his head to silence him.

"Let me finish. I knew that our first time was going to be special, but there was no set time. There was no goal. Should we wait until we leave Lima? Until we're in college? Until we're living together? There isn't much precedence for a relationship like ours. But now there's a goal, or a benchmark, or whatever you want to call it. Blaine, I want our first time to be on our honeymoon. I want to wait until marriage."

He waited, watching Blaine's blank face for some semblance of emotion. After a minute, he grew worried; had he said something to upset the boy?

And then, out of nowhere, they were kissing, passionately, desperately, lovingly. Hands wound in each other's hair, they moved closer and closer together until it seemed as if they shared their very skin.

Eventually, though, Blaine pulled back. "I agree with you completely."

Kurt laughed, and then stood up. "Come on, lover boy. My father is probably not too happy with the two of us right now. We should go down and smooth things over." He took Blaine by the hand and tugged him off the bed.

Then the two slowly descended the stairs, ready to face the world with the future they had planned for themselves.

* * *

><p>First, virtual bear hugs to cloudysock for finding an AVPM reference in my last chapter (less than three)! It actually wasn't the one I was referring to in the AN at the end, though, so there's still a VBH waiting for anyone who can find the one actually in the text.

Second, I've received some amazingly kind reviews from my readers, and I want you to know that I read each and every one, even if I forget to respond (which I do often because I have the attention spat of a gnat). Everything you guys say has meant a lot to me, honestly. Thank you so much.

Third, in case you didn't pick up on it, or if you don't live in America so you have no idea what this is about, this story is about how Klaine reacts when they find out that gay marriage has been legalized in New York, where they plan on living one day. (I'm not sure if I mentioned that in an earlier chapter, but their plan is to move to NYC together. Now you know.) Of course, to these boys, that would be an amazing revelation. I will admit right here and right now that I did NOT come up with this idea on my own. I may have..."borrowed" it from another FanFic. However, my story was incredibly different from the one in question, because I honestly hate copying others' work.

Fourth, even though this whole gay-marriage-in-NY thing just happened, we'll pretend that it's still pretty early in the summer, just because I want to write more and I'm not ready for it to be August already. And I'm in denial that school's about to start up again. I'm a psychological mess, and these stories keep me grounded.

Fifth (and finally!), I love you guys! Thanks for being totally awesome!


	17. Five

**Five**

The group of five sauntered through the sea of people, chatting amiably with one another, no particular goal in mind. They passed dozens of carts in the middle of the wide halls of the mall, each selling trinkets and baubles of some kind. The babble that bounced off the whitewashed walls echoed in their ears, but they ignored it easily.

After dismissing several stores, he stopped short.

"We're going in here!"

Rachel and Mercedes yelled, "Yes!" at the same time Finn and Blaine exclaimed, "No!" in protest.

The girls and Kurt glared at the dissenting boys. "Why the hell not?" Mercedes demanded, arms crossed. (Normally Mercedes hated being the third—or, in this case, fifth—wheel, but with the way she and Kurt acted around each other, everyone would probably assume they were together—well, they would, if Kurt didn't scream _gay as the Fourth of July_ with every move he made.)

Blaine and Finn exchanged a loaded glance, and then sighed, defeated. They knew it was foolish to challenge the wills of three major divas.

And so the quintet walked into Claire's. Mercedes immediately pulled Kurt to the side, grabbing a pink leopard print scarf and wrapping it around his neck. "Boo, this is so you."

Rachel rushed over to the pair of them, clutching a Love and Peace cabby hat. After she placed it fashionably on his head, she laughed. "Now it's perfect!"

Kurt checked his reflection in a nearby mirror. "I don't know...the colors don't go properly. I need a softer pink for the hat."

As those three rummaged through the small store, Blaine and Finn stood awkwardly near the entrance.

"How long do you think they'll be?" Finn mumbled, hoping that he wouldn't be seen by anyone he knew from school.

Blaine shrugged. Honestly, he didn't mind waiting as the girls and Kurt tried on every single item in the store; he loved watching Kurt's face light up when he spotted something particularly fabulous. Normally, he would've been right by his side, sticking the most outrageous garments on his boyfriend, laughing hysterically as his ensemble grew more and more and ridiculous. But this time he was preoccupied. He kept an eagle eye on the passersby, searching for a few faces, praying he wouldn't find them.

Finn noticed the shorter boy's worry. "What's up, man? You're being all quiet."

Blaine shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm just...last time Kurt and I came here, things didn't end well."

Finn's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Blaine looked up at the other boy in surprise. "Kurt didn't tell you?" When Finn shook his head, Blaine continued. "We came here on a date once—it wasn't really a date, more just a day out together—and I ran into guys from my old school. The ones who..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. His eyes returned to the people outside the store.

Then, much to Blaine's shock, Finn placed a hand on his shoulder. When Blaine looked at the taller boy again, he saw that he was smiling in a compassionate, protective way. "Don't worry, man," Finn said. "No one's going to touch my little brother while I'm around." He chuckled. "Besides, have you _seen_ someone try to mess with Kurt while Mercedes is around? It's not pretty."

Almost as if she knew they were talking about her, Mercedes appeared, Rachel touching shoulders with her. "Blaine, Finn." She nodded to each boy respectively. "I hope you are ready to meet your new boyfriend and brother." She and Rachel jumped to the side, revealing an extravagantly dressed Kurt standing in a very dramatic pose.

"Oh...my God!" Blaine clapped his hands over his mouth.

Kurt grinned. He had walked into the store in his black skinny jeans and powder pink V-neck short-sleeved shirt, but he and the girls had added some outlandish accessories. Attached to his earlobes were clip-on rainbow butterfly earrings. Over his coifed hair perched a pink plaid fedora, and from underneath that a pink sequin headband was just visible. Tossed around his neck fashionably was a scarf that matched the fedora. He had attached a pair of neon green suspenders to his pants, and they glowed against the soft pink fabric. On a few fingers he had variously colored, gaudy flower rings. On his right wrist hung a few BFF bracelets of rainbow colors, and on the other was a thick, black, rubber bracelet with the words "I HEART MY BOYFRIEND" in bold white.

The other two boys were speechless. Rachel and Mercedes doubled over in laughter as they watched Finn and Blaine's faces, Kurt's diva pose, and the curiosity of the other shoppers in the vicinity. These girls, too, also wore some BFF bracelets; these accessories came in a pack, and they couldn't resist buying them and divvying them up.

Finn spoke first. "Damn." The other four looked at him questioningly. "What else is there to say, man?"

Blaine finally lowered his hands. He pulled Kurt in tight for a long bear hug. "You are the craziest, weirdest, funniest, _sexiest _man I know, Kurt Hummel," he whispered into the diva's ear.

Kurt laughed. "Well, of _course _I am, Blaine!" The two pulled apart. "I didn't buy all of this though—just the bracelets. Come on, girls, help me put this stuff back." The three fashionistas retreated into the store once more.

Finn and Blaine looked at each other for half a moment, and then burst into hysterics. The memory of Kurt was actually more funny that him standing there—no, that was more of a complete and utter shock.

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Blaine choked, "Sometimes, I swear, that boy has more courage in one fashionable finger than I ever will."

The three returned, each wearing a number of BFF bracelets, and Kurt still wearing the big black boyfriend one. With that hand, he laced his fingers through Blaine's. "Let's keep shopping."

Blaine chuckled, and placed a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "Anything, beautiful."

Rachel and Mercedes "awwwed" at their cuteness, and Kurt stuck his tongue out at them. The five once more braved the oncoming traffic of people, trying to choose a new store to rummage through.

After dismissing several stores, he stopped short.

"We're going in here!"

Finn and Mercedes yelled, "Yes!" at the same time Rachel and Kurt exclaimed, "No!" in protest.

This time, it wasn't Mercedes who fussed at the dissenters; it was Blaine. Fixing his face into his most adorable, most pathetic puppy-dog look, he pouted, "Please Kurt? Please, please, please? I _promise _I'll behave myself!"

Kurt sighed; he knew it was pointless to fight the face. "_Fine_."

Finn and Blaine high-fived loudly, the latter having to jump slightly to do so, and the two boys and Mercedes dashed into the candy store.

"Don't spoil your appetite," Kurt called after them. "Don't forget, Carole's making lasagna for dinner!" He and Rachel exchanged an eye roll as their boyfriends and Mercedes explored every jar, counter, and bowl in the store.

"Hey Kurt!" Blaine's voice wafted from somewhere they couldn't see. "I found Red Vines!"

* * *

><p>It had to happen. I really wanted some Furt, and I also wanted some BFFing, and this is the result. Believe it or not, the only part of this story that I had planned from the beginning was the the Red Vine reference at the very end. I'd like to give a HUGE shout-out to Klaine Is My Life for the shopping trip idea! I hope I did you justice.<p>

You guys are lucky. I wasn't going to update this until late tonight (it's twenty to three in the morning where I am right now, so by late tonight I mean in fifteen hours), but due to insomnia I had all the time in the world to finish this chapter and update my story! I should probably have worked on my AP Lang assignment...considering school starts in, like, eight days...NAH! This was more fun!

Oh, and just so you know, I did actual RESEARCH for this chapter. (I know, I'm SO studious!) Every item Kurt wore can actually be bought at Claire's (except for the jeans and the shirt), or at least that's what their website says. But don't trust anything you find on the Internet. There are crazy people out there.

Why am I rambling, you ask? Didn't I JUST tell you that it's nearly three o'clock in the morning and I have insomnia? PAY ATTENTION PEOPLE!

If you're still reading this, you get a virtual bear hug! *virtual bear hugs readers*

Shutting up now.


	18. The Dock

**The Dock**

Shallow ripples slapped gently against the wooden pilings of the dock. Seaweed beds tickled the undersurface of the green-blue lake. Bright beams of sunlight reflected off of the water, stinging their eyes. The three that horsed around in the lake made quite a ruckus, but the other docks that lined the shore were empty.

Finally, one turned to a boy who sat alone on the sun-lightened wood, scribbling in a notebook, feet dangling off the edge. "Kurt, come on! The water's fine once you get in."

Kurt glared up from his work. "Shut up, Wes."

David rolled his eyes. "Come on, whatever you're doing over there can wait."

Releasing a spurt of water from his mouth like a whale, Blaine finally spoke. "Leave him alone, guys. It's his vacation, too, even if we are at your place, Wes. Let him do what he wants." He smiled when Kurt threw a silent thanks his way.

Wes paddled over to the end of the dock, floating just under Kurt's pale, swinging feet. "I know what this is. You can't stand the thought of lake water in your hair."

This time, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Do you _know _what _lives _in that lake?" His nose wrinkled in disgust. "What _poops _in there?"

David joined his friend, leaving Blaine alone as he struggled to detangle himself from a ferocious bit of seaweed. "So what're you doing up there, anyway, Kurt? I know you're not studying, because we have nearly two months before school starts back up."

Though the other two couldn't see his face or his notebook, Kurt flushed from embarrassment. "Never you mind," he mumbled.

Intrigued by his boyfriend's evasive response, and finally freed from the evil clutches of the green plant, Blaine dove and swam below the surface, popping back up silently in the shade of the dock, where Kurt couldn't see him. Placing a finger to his lips to alert the other boys of the covertness of his plan, he waded slowly until he was situated perfectly under Kurt's feet.

Then, without warning, he bounced up from the sandy bottom and grabbed Kurt's skinny ankles, tugging him down into the water. His victim splashed in with a yelp of surprise.

"Boo-yah!" Wes and David exclaimed, high-fiving each other victoriously.

Kurt resurfaced, sputtering, "BLAINE ANDERSON! WHAT IN THE NAME OF GAGA WERE YOU THINKING?"

Looking slightly sheepish, Blaine pecked Kurt quickly on the cheek. "Sorry, babe. It had to be done."

Just then, David stretched his long body upward, and, gripping the edge of the wooden planks, heaved himself onto the dock, aided by a shove from Wes below. He snatched Kurt's notebook from where it had landed open on the dock.

Kurt saw what the boy was doing. "David, don't!"

Blaine, too, looked concerned. "Come on, man. Don't go through his stuff—"

But it was too late. David leafed through the bright pages, trying not to get them too wet. He ignored Kurt's further protests, and Blaine's vain attempts to hook a hand on the edge of the boardwalk—reaching Kurt's hanging ankles was one thing, but the curly-haired boy was just too short to lay a finger on the mossy wood. David stopped at a certain page.

"Awww!" he cooed. "The two of you are too adorable!"

"What?" Wes demanded, slapping his hand against the water to gain his best friend's attention. (Truth be told, he was missing his gavel.) "What're you looking at?"

Kurt's face was so red it seemed as though he was instantaneously sunburned. Just as David began to explain the page, Blaine cut him off. "Shut up." He looked at Kurt, who stared dejectedly into the glimmering lake. "David, close the book and put it down. Kurt doesn't want us knowing what he's written, and that's the way it's got to be."

Kurt's eyes met Blaine's, brimming over with tears. He smiled, though, and took his boyfriend's hand in his own, squeezing it tightly.

David groaned in disappointment, but did as he was asked. Wes sighed in sudden boredom and backstroked into the middle of the lake once more. David dove in after him, sending waves crashing onto the boys holding hands.

Blaine led Kurt further under the dock, away from the two hooligans trying to hold each other under water. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean for them to—"

"No, it's fine." Kurt seemed to be handling the situation well—he refrained from releasing the impassable diva within him, so that was a plus. "It's just...some things I wrote in there were...personal. Not just to me, but to us."

Blaine's triangular eyebrows merged together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Kurt sighed and wrapped his arms around the shorter boy's neck. "Well, if you _must _know," he breathed. "I may or may not have been making preliminary plans for our wedding." Despite his attempts at appearing blasé about the whole thing, his ears became pink-tinged again.

Blaine kissed his boyfriend deeply, staying on his lips for a full minute before moving elsewhere: Kurt's cheekbones, Kurt's ears, Kurt's neck, Kurt's exposed chest...He must never take such a beautiful creature for granted.

They released each other only when the wolf-whistles from their friends grew too unbearable. Blaine laughed. "I don't care about the food, or the clothes, or the flowers, or the guests—just so long as we dance to 'Teenage Dream' before the night is over."

* * *

><p>First and foremost, thanks to loveconquers1 for an awesome prompt! I know I kind of twisted what you suggested a bit, and I hope I didn't screw it up completely-honestly, I wasn't too happy with the was this one turned out, especially since I think the last few were pretty awesome (in my own humble, biased opinion). I would never have thought of something like this if it wasn't for you, so thanks a billion.<p>

That being said, I'm always up for prompts, so if you want some particular Blurt fluffiness, message me or review me and let me know!

Quick shout-out to the Darren Criss Street Team that performed the totally awesome flash mob at Market Days in Chicago yesterday! You guys rocked, and I know Darren loved it. I'm proud to be a part of the DCST, and I'm really sorry I couldn't be there.

Love you guys!


	19. The Fall

**The Fall**

The rough bark scratched his palms, but he didn't notice. He pushed himself further, muscles stretching and sweat trickling down his neck. He soon found himself wrapped tightly in a world of forest green and chocolate brown; perching himself lithely upon a sturdy branch, he called down the pale boy below him.

"Kurt, are you _ever _going to come up here?"

Kurt glared up at Blaine, who smirked back. "This may have escaped your notice, _darling_, but I'm not the most outdoorsy guy around."

Blaine rolled his eyes, and then cast them around his front yard. From the middle of the large mulberry tree that overlooked his rather impressive home, he could see a good deal of the other houses in his upscale neighborhood. Mrs. Finkle, who lived three doors down and across the street, lounged on her deck, sipping a Manhattan iced tea and reading a tabloid. Tony and Frankie Fanello, nine and seven years old respectively, wrestled with each other two yards in the other direction. One street over, a pair of Hispanic teenagers manicured the front garden of a particularly expansive mansion. Blaine knew that if he scaled higher into the tree, his line of sight would extend far past the outskirts of the neighborhood, for this particular tree was much taller than most others of its species, but doing so would compromise his view of Kurt, and that was not acceptable.

When he gazed back down at his boyfriend, his triangular eyebrows shot up in surprise; Kurt had one bare foot firmly planted on the lowest branch of the mulberry, and his soft hands were reaching up to take hold of the next highest.

"Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed, unsettling himself in order to climb down and assist the other boy. "I can't believe your actually doing this!"

Kurt, who was now straddling the second branch uncomfortably, wrinkled his nose at his boyfriend. "First of all, what is _that _supposed to mean? You think I can't handle this?" He continued before Blaine had a chance to backpedal. "And second, you stay right where you are, mister. I'm going to go to _you_." With that he resumed his slow, arduous climb.

Still in awe, but with an amused half-smile, Blaine resituated himself so he stretched out on his branch, which was about five or six above the one Kurt was currently trying to grasp, back resting against the trunk of the tree.

Kurt was not having such an easy time. He was limber enough, that was no doubt, and his muscles were quite strong; it was in protecting his outfit that he was having issues. When Blaine invited him to his house—no, his _mansion_—for a day of relaxation and fun, he didn't think twice about accepting—after all, with the Andersons out of town, they could have the alone time they couldn't always get at the ever-busy Hudson-Hummel home. As usual, however, he thought twice about what he would wear—he thought a hundred times. His instinctual need to constantly be fabulous coupled with his desire to be attractive for his boyfriend drove Kurt to choose the worst possible outfit for tree climbing: tight white skinny jeans, a loose-fitting lilac button-down (fashionably untucked), and black Sperry Top-Siders, which lay discarded in the grass (Kurt couldn't bear the thought of exposing his beloved shoes to the bark of the tree). The constriction of the denim around his waist and legs restricted his movement, and his shirt kept getting tangled in everything.

Despite these adversities, however, Kurt finally pulled himself up onto the same branch on which Blaine laid, with a bit of help from the other boy. Kurt clung to the limb for dear life, one leg dangling from each side. Blaine bit back a laugh; Kurt's nose had wrinkled when he saw dirt on his white pants. He leaned forward, his legs sliding off of the bough, so his face was quite close to Kurt's. "I'm impressed," he breathed.

Kurt instantaneously forgot about his wardrobe malfunction. He gazed deeply into the hazel eyes before his own, trying to remember how to use both his lungs and his heart at the same time. Before he did, though, Blaine was kissing him, twisting his fingers in his slightly mussed hair and pulling him closer. Kurt reciprocated gladly, wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist as he melted.

The two were a little overenthusiastic, however, and began to slide off of the branch. Kurt, already slightly nervous, noticed first. "BLAINE!"

Before the other boy could do anything, the intertwined lovers crashed to the earth, miraculously missing any other limbs on the way down. Blaine landed first, cushioning Kurt's fall.

It was a long moment before either moved or spoke. Then Blaine groaned. "That...was a bad idea."

Kurt rolled so he no longer pinned his boyfriend to the ground. "That...hurt. A lot."

Blaine turned over onto his side, wincing slightly, and looked over Kurt in concern. "Are you okay? Is anything broken?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing but my pride."

Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes. With a grunt, he sat up, brushing his hands on his jeans to get the dirt off of them. He then stared up at the tree from which the two just toppled. "It's weird."

Still laying down, Kurt grabbed his hand. "What's weird?"

Blaine sighed contemplatively. "Well, you know I'm normally terrified of heights, but...this tree? I've never been afraid of it. Even when I've climbed up to the highest branches, I was never scared. I guess that's because..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes fell to the ground again.

Moving to a sitting position, Kurt squeezed the hand he held. "What?"

In a whisper, the shorter boy continued. "I guess that's because when things got bad in there—" He jerked his head toward his house. "—that tree was the only place I ever felt safe. I knew he couldn't get to me when I was in the sky."

Kurt let go of Blaine's hand, only to wrap both of his arms around his disheveled frame. Resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, he murmured, "Well, as long as you're with me, you're never going to have to hide again."

A smile broke across Blaine's face, and he tipped his head so it leaned on top of Kurt's. "I know."

The two sat that way for a few more minutes, gazing at nothing in particular, just feeling the closeness of their bodies. Then Kurt spoke. "Okay, now that the tree climbing escapades are over, I suggest you find me some clothes to change into, because this outfit is officially ruined, and it's kind of all your fault."

Blaine gasped in mock indignation. "_My _fault!" Kurt nodded. "How is this _my _fault? _You _were the one who dragged _me _out of the tree!

Kurt jumped to his feet, instantly regretting the move, since he was still sore from the fall. "Whatever. All I know is, I'm going to raid your pitiful closet until I find something worthy of my fabulousness to wear." He snatched his shoes from where they lay and marched into the house. Blaine quickly followed him, chuckling all the way up to his bedroom. Soon, both boys were wearing sweatpants—Kurt's a little too short for his legs—and comfortable tee shirts. They snuggled on Blaine's bed, prepared to watch a Disney movie—_The Little Mermaid_, perhaps, or maybe _Mulan_—but that plan quickly dissolved into a rather steamy make-out session.

* * *

><p>Let me start by giving a HUGE grazi to BananaGleek for the tree climbing prompt. I saw it, and thought, "That's interesting, but what am I going to do with it?" So I just started writing, and I thought it was going to be totally awkward, but then BAM! This came out. And I kind of love it. Sorry if that sounds conceited.<p>

Now, I am going to brag and say I GET TO SEE GLEE 3-D ON SATURDAY WITH ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS! I know that most of you have probably already seen it, so this is not big news for you, but for someone as socially challenged as I am, this is huge news. My friend and I are going to sing "Goin' Back to Hogwarts" before the movie starts and see how many people we can get to join us. Oh, and I'm coming loaded with RED VINES.

Sorry 'bout that. Now to give some sincere, heartfelt thanks to everyone who's reviewed me, particularly LunaGleek14, who's reviewed me about a million times. I read each and every one of your messages, people, honestly, and you don't know how many times I've had to fight back tears because of some of the amazing things I've read. I've never been very secure about my writing, and your kind words truly make me feel awesome. So I'm saying thank you to all of you, and I love you SO MUCH. You seriously have no idea how much I love you people-for being kind and generous and Gleeks and Starkids and YOU. Thanks so much.


	20. Heat

**Heat**

The roar of the machine in his hands drilled into his head, and the vibrations rocked his body. As he began to move, taking slow, deliberate steps, sweat poured over his skin, matting his thick curls to his head and causing his already grubby tee to cling to his torso. He pushed the lawn mower across the tall grass, back hunched over, muscles aching after a few minutes. He occasionally glared up at the sun as it smiled down at him mockingly.

Why did the Hudson-Hummel's yard have to be so _big_?

He knew, of course, that his own yard at home was much vaster than this one, but mercifully he was not tasked with the job of keeping that one well-trimmed; his father used a lawn maintenance service for that. Though he was built well, the physical exertion of the job and the incredible heat of the day quickly got to him.

From inside the garage, his boyfriend, too, worked hard. The pale boy stretched out on the cement floor underneath his precious Escalade. Earlier in the week he heard some odd noises coming from its inner workings, so he decided to have a look. Wiping his hands on his dirty overalls, he scooted out from under the vehicle and stood up, reaching for a tool. In doing so, he caught sight of his boyfriend, who had just then decided to stop and strip off his soaked tee shirt. Gasping slightly, the mechanic forgot completely about whatever it was he was supposed to be fetching; the other boy's long, lean torso glistened in the sun, sweat trickling down his chest hair. Before he resumed his mowing, he whipped his hair back and forth, sending perspiration flying everywhere.

"Damn, Blaine," Kurt muttered under his breath.

Just then a pair of high school girls, maybe sophomores, jogged past the yard. Each spotted Blaine, gave the other a look, and giggled intensely. The one closest to the house waggled her fingers at the boy, who smiled back shyly.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He was used to girls hitting on his boyfriend. (Could you blame them? The boy was smoking hot.) Some days he found it hilarious—just knowing that they had no idea that he wasn't the slightest bit interested in them tickled Kurt's funny bone. Other days, though, like that day, it was merely annoying. He finally ripped his gaze away from Blaine's glorious body and wracked his brain trying to remember what tool he needed in the first place. He quickly recalled, and once he grabbed it from its place in the tool box he knelt to slide under the car once more.

Before he could do so, however, he heard a loud _thump _from the yard, and the stationary whirring of an engine. He looked out and gasped in horror—Blaine had collapsed.

Tossing the tool aside, Kurt darted into the lawn, crashing to a halt next to his boyfriend. "Blaine!" he shouted, shaking the unconscious boy by the shoulders. "Blaine, wake up! _Blaine_!" He turned toward the house and yelled, "Dad! Finn! Help!" He struggled to pull a barely-breathing Blaine into his lap.

Within a minute both his father and his stepbrother were flying out of the house, reaching the two boys on the ground in a flash.

"What happened?" Burt demanded, kneeling down to check Blaine's pulse.

"I don't know!" Kurt fought back tears. "One minute he was mowing the lawn, and the next he was passed out!"

"He looks overheated," Burt said. He then motioned Finn to come closer. "Here, let's get him into the AC."

Without hesitation, Finn bent down and scooped the much smaller boy into his arms, whisking him into the house. The Hummels scurried after him quickly. Finn laid Blaine on the couch and without being told dashed into the kitchen to fetch ice and water. Kurt knelt beside Blaine again, clutching on his hand for dear life.

Burt placed a hand on his distressed son's shoulder. "Kurt, give him some room. He needs to cool down, and with you so close he can't do that."

Kurt nodded and scooted a little farther away, but he never let go of his boyfriend's hand. Just then Finn rushed in with a large bowl of ice and few washcloths doused in nearly freezing water. The three of them stretched the towels across Blaine's forehead, arms, and legs. Then each took a cube of ice and ran it over his skin, trying to cool it down.

A few minutes later, Blaine's eyelids fluttered open.

"Blaine!" Kurt squealed, throwing himself across his boyfriend's still-soaked chest. "Oh my Gaga, Blaine, you nearly scared the fabulous out of me!"

Blaine groaned, but lifted a hand to stroke Kurt's hair nonetheless. "Well, by looking at you, I can tell I've done a pretty good job."

Frowning, Kurt sat up and looked at himself. He wore nothing but dingy overalls and ragged work boots. He had to concede that Blaine was quite right; _nothing _about that outfit was fabulous. He feigned a look of indignation. "This is mechanic chic, mister."

Blaine laughed softly, and then looked at the other two in the room. "What...happened?"

Finn leaned over the back of the couch. "Too much heat, man. You should've taken a couple of breaks, come inside, cooled off."

Burt suddenly realized something. "Wait. Why were you mowing our lawn in the first place?"

Both Blaine and Finn's faces grew sheepish. "I lost a bet," Blaine mumbled.

"What?" Kurt snapped, his eyes flicking accusatorily between his boyfriend and his stepbrother.

Finn cleared his throat. "Well, um...I bet Blaine that I could get to second base with Rachel before the end of the week." He said this very fast.

"I didn't think he could," Blaine said. "But...I was wrong. So I had to mow the lawn for him for the rest of the summer."

Burt was visibly trying to fight back a laugh, but Kurt just glared at his stepbrother. "So this is _your _fault?" he growled.

Finn's eyes widened in fear. "No, man! He was the one who didn't have confidence in me!" He pointed at Blaine, who held his hands up in surrender. "I didn't _make _him take the bet. He's a big boy." Then he smirked. "Well, metaphorically."

Blaine scowled.

Burt had to ask. "So, what would you have had to do if you lost, Finn?"

That wiped the smirk off of Finn's face. "I...um...it doesn't matter, I won."

This time Blaine smiled. "He would have had to change his relationship status on Facebook to _In an Open Relationship _for the rest of the summer."

Burt lost it. He burst into laughter, imagining the brown-haired diva's reaction to such a change. "Oh, you lucked out there, son."

Kurt was still glowering at the other teens. "Well, I hope you're happy, because you're juvenile deal nearly KILLED Blaine."

The sheepish expressions were back. "I'm sorry," they both mumbled. Then they caught each other's eyes and started to snicker.

Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation and marched back outside, determined to fix his baby in the garage and to find some way to get Blaine and Finn back for nearly giving him a heart attack.

* * *

><p>First things first: shout-outs to Artist-Writer-Lover-Fighter and Horsegahl for this awesome prompt! Coincidentally, both of you suggested Blaine mowing the lawn and getting all sweaty and whatnot. Not that I blame you. I pretty much want to see Darren perform simply because the boy is so sexy when he sweats...<p>

And I'm back! Guys, I've gotten many reviews and many suggestions, and I want you to know that I've read each and every one, and I love them all! I spent forever last night going through and responding to each one, so if I somehow skipped over you, just shoot me a message telling me what a dumbass I am. It's cool. I especially love suggestions, so if you have something you'd like me to make Blurt do (I get SUCH a god complex when I word it that way!), let me know! I don't care if you think it's stupid-tell me anyways! That's an order!

ALSO! Virtual bear hug to Lgleek95 for finding the AVPM reference from "Under the Stars"! (It was "Hey, you," by the way.) You are awesome!

Love you guys! LTT!


	21. A Date With Facebook

**A Date With Facebook**

**Kurt Hummel **to **Blaine Anderson**

Hey, are you coming over tonight?

**Blaine Anderson**

Sure thing!

**Kurt Hummel**

Good, because I have a surprise for you. ;)

-**Blaine Anderson, Santana Lopez, Wes Li, **and **4 others **like this.

**Santana Lopez**

Wanky!

**Finn Hudson**

...Am I going to want to be home for this?

**Kurt Hummel**

Guys, it's totally not what you think it is! I'd tell you what it is, but then Blaine would see it, and that wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?

**Santana Lopez**

Whatever. All I know it, if something wanky DOES happen, I want to know about it. In detail.

-**Wes Li **likes this.

* * *

><p><strong>On Chat:<strong>

**Mercedes Jones**

Hey, boo?

**Kurt Hummel**

Yeah, 'Cedes?

**Mercedes Jones**

Can you tell **me **what the surprise?

I won't tell Prep Boy, I promise.

**Kurt Hummel**

Don't call him that!

And fine.

We're having a major Disney marathon in my room.

I've got popcorn, Minute Maid apple juice, and, of course, Red Vines.

**Mercedes Jones**

...

**Kurt Hummel**

What?

**Mercedes Jones**

Why is it that the good ones are always gay?

**Kurt Hummel**

Poetic justice?

* * *

><p><strong>Brittany S. Pierce <strong>to **Blaine Anderson**

You're a dolphin, right?

-**Kurt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Santana Lopez, **and **10 others **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

o.O What?

**Kurt Hummel**

Yes, boo, **Blaine Anderson **is a dolphin.

**Brittany S. Pierce**

Yay! Are you two friendly dolphins?

**Blaine Anderson**

o.O Babe, what is she talking about?

**Kurt Hummel**

Britt, yes, we are friendly dolphins. Blaine, I'll explain when you get here.

**Blaine Anderson**

Good, because sometimes she says stuff that makes negative sense.

-**Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez, Brittany S. Pierce, **and **11 others **like this.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine Anderson <strong>to **Kurt Hummel**

I'm on my way, babe!

-**Kurt Hummel **likes this.

**Kurt Hummel**

Yay! I can't wait! LTT

**Blaine Anderson**

LTT

**Kurt Hummel**

**Blaine Anderson**, do not Facebook and drive!

-**Burt Hummel **and **Carole Hudson **like this.

**Kurt Hummel**

...Are you guys stalking my Facebook again?

-** Burt Hummel **and **Carole Hudson **like this.

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine Anderson <strong>to **Kurt Hummel**

Look out your window.

**Kurt Hummel**

Okay...

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt Hummel<strong>

just got serenaded by his boyfriend and his guitar. "I Still Think" by Darren Criss never sounded so beautiful.

-**Blaine Anderson, Mercedes Jones, Rachel Berry, **and **3 others **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

Sucks that I broke a string, though...

**Santana Lopez**

Your G string? ;)

-**Noah 'Puck' Puckerman **and **Wes Li **like this.

**Kurt Hummel**

Santana!

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine Anderson<strong>

Here I was thinking that *I* was the best boyfriend ever, and then mine comes along with The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, Pocahontas, Red Vines, apple juice, AND popcorn! It's official: **Kurt Hummel **is the most amazing boyfriend ever! LTT

-**Kurt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Wes Li, **and **25 others **like this.

**Mercedes Jones**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Wes Li**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**David Jackson**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Rachel Berry**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Tina Cohen-Chang**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Sam Evans **

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Brittany S. Pierce**

Wanky!

**Santana Lopez**

Sadly, sweetie, this is not a 'wanky' situation.

**Brittany S. Pierce**

:(

**Kurt Hummel**

STOP BLOWING UP MY NOTIFICATIONS! I'M TRYING TO CRY! Damn you, Triton...

-**Blaine Anderson **likes this.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt Hummel<strong>

just remembered his life-long fear of the giant sand tiger from the beginning of Aladdin.

* * *

><p><strong>Mercedes Jones<strong>

hopes her white boys are having fun with their Disney marathon date, and expects a report in full detail at the end.

-**Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry, **and **Tina Cohen-Chang **like this.

**Rachel Berry**

I second this completely. I want to know EVERYTHING, **Kurt Hummel**.

-**Mercedes Jones **and **Tina Cohen-Chang** like this.

**Tina Cohen-Chang**

And you're not allowed to leave anything out. ANYTHING. The smuttier the better, honestly. Feel free to embellish.

-**Rachel Berry **and **Mercedes Jones **like this.

**Kurt Hummel**

I'm not afraid to hurt the three of you.

-**Blaine Anderson **likes this.

**Mercedes Jones**

Listen, Prep Boy, White Boy can threaten me to his heart's content, because I know he loves me, and he knows I love him. But you better not be thinking that you can like that threat and back it up, 'cause I WILL cut you.

-**Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, **and **15 others **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

o.O

* * *

><p><strong>Finn Hudson <strong>to **Kurt Hummel**

We really need some kind of system here. Either lock the door, or put a sock on the knob, or something, but I never want to go through what I just went through again.

**Santana Lopez**

WANKY!

**Kurt Hummel**

I have a system for you: you bang your fist against the CLOSED door until someone inside allows you to enter! It's been working for people for centuries—you're no exception to the rule! And why didn't you just say this to my face, instead of putting it up on Facebook where everyone else can see it?

-**Rachel Berry **likes this.

**Finn Hudson**

I'm sorry if I didn't realize that "Disney movie marathon" translated into "get tangled up in the sheets!" And I put this on FACEBOOK because I can't look at you without seeing Blaine's tongue. OH GOD, THE MENTAL IMAGES!

**Santana Lopez**

SO. MUCH. WANKY!

**Kurt Hummel**

Santana!

**Santana Lopez**

I apologize for nothing.

-**Mercedes Jones, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, Mike Chang, **and **5 others **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

Why did you have to bring me into this, Finn?

**Finn Hudson**

Dude, you were "into this" before I even entered the room!

**Santana Lopez**

Seriously, if there's any more wanky I could die.

**Kurt Hummel**

SANTANA!

**Burt Hummel**

I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this line of conversation...I'm coming upstairs.

**Blaine Anderson**

Shit.

-**Kurt Hummel, Finn Hudson, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, **and **15 others **like this.

**Noah 'Puck' Puckerman**

Dude, you don't know how many times I've had angry fathers try to kill me. Your best bet it to create a diversion and run, trust me.

**Kurt Hummel**

Thanks a lot, Puck! He just jumped out the second story window!

-**Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Wes Li, **and **17 others **like this.

**Rachel Berry**

Oh my God, is he okay?

**Kurt Hummel**

**Finn Hudson, **you are a dead man.

-**Rachel Berry, Mercedes Jones, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, **and **20 others **like this.

**Mercedes Jones**

What happened to Prep Boy?

**Kurt Hummel**

He hobbled to his car and drove off. Funny thing is, my dad wasn't even that mad.

-**Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, Finn Hudson, **and **Burt Hummel **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

He wasn't?

**Burt Hummel**

No, kid. You two were cool. I wasn't even coming upstairs.

-**Kurt Hummel, Finn Hudson, Carole Hudson, **and **20 others **like this.

**Blaine Anderson**

So I just twisted my ankle and left my guitar at your house for nothing?

-**Kurt Hummel **likes this.

**Kurt Hummel**

Sorry, babe. I'll drop it by your place tomorrow when I pick you up for dinner.

-**Blaine Anderson **likes this.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt Hummel <strong>to **Blaine Anderson**

Well, even though it didn't end quite the way I envisioned, it was still a good date, if I do say so myself.

-**Blaine Anderson **likes this.

**Blaine Anderson**

Agreed. LTT

**Kurt Hummel**

LTT

**Mercedes Jones**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Wes Li**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**David Jackson**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Rachel Berry**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Tina Cohen-Chang**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Sam Evans **

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Brittany S. Pierce**

Wanky!

**Santana Lopez**

Close, boo, but not quite.

**Brittany S. Pierce**

Awww...:(

**Kurt Hummel**

STOP BLOWING UP MY NOTIFICATIONS!

* * *

><p>So, a digression from my normal style, but I thought it was a nice change. Yes, I know that these Facebook FanFics are way too overdone, but I hope I did a unique-enough job with this one. I was feeling the need for a little New Directions lovin' tonight, so I decided to use Facebook. I'm not sure if I'll do this again though; this was a pain in the ass to format.<p>

In case you don't remember this from "Less Than Three," LTT is my abbreviation for the typical text heart, since this MOTHER-FLIPPING WEBSITE doesn't like the less than sign. (Clearly, I still have issues about this.)

For those who don't know, Minute Maid apple juice is Darren Criss' favorite kind of apple juice. If you haven't seen the Darren Criss apple juice Facebook story, go look it up RIGHT NOW. I mean it. Right now. Even if you don't know who Joe Moses and Corey Dorris are, LOOK IT UP! You WILL laugh.

More Darren Criss/Starkid references: Red Vines, obviously. No-brainer there. I used The Little Mermaid because that's one of the movies Starkid based Starship off of, and I used Aladdin because it's Darren's favorite Disney movie. "I Still Think" is a song Darren wrote, and it's GORGEOUS. It was used in "Little White Lie," which is another thing I DEMAND you look up RIGHT NOW. Oh, and the whole "broke a string" thing is real. Darren breaks strings on his guitar a lot, particularly during "I Still Think," since it's a jam song.

For more bragging (because there wasn't enough in chapter nineteen): I ORDERED PURPLE STARKID SUNGLASSES TODAY! Can I get a whoop-whoop? *crickets* Alright then. And my friend and I are going to devour no less than SIX packages of Red Vines during Glee 3-D. We shall sing "Goin' Back to Hogwarts" with Starkid PRIDE, and when Darren first comes on screen, we will yell, "BLOODY HELL! IT'S HARRY !" Just like Seamus.

Whoa. I REALLY need to lay off the Crystal Light. It does crazy stuff to my brain.

If you're still reading this, VIRTUAL BEAR HUG!

I love you guys!


	22. Songs of the Night

**Songs of the Night**

The soft song of a few dozen crickets wafted through the partially-open window on a warm breeze, the long drapes dancing to the beat. Every once in a long while, the low hum of an engine would find its way into their oblivious ears. Little light broke the blanket of darkness that covered the room; the moon was new, no streetlights shone upon that side of the house, and every occupant of the home was fast asleep, lamps and devices powered down for their slumbers.

One, however, was sleeping rather fitfully. He had drifted off in the arms of his boyfriend, who continued to hold him even after his own descent into unconsciousness. (This other boy had been instructed by the father of the house to sleep on the floor, but the young lovers knew that if they woke up in time, they could pretend that they had slept in their designated locations.) His unsettled sleep had nothing to do with his boyfriend's proximity, however; the discomfort was a product of his own subconscious.

_Darkness pressed upon his eyeballs. His heart beat so rapidly in his chest that he choked, gasping for air. Perspiration cascaded down his porcelain skin. No matter how hard he cajoled himself, his could not push his body to move fast enough._

_The hulking figure behind him cackled manically. Its large feet crashed to the earth in a slow, deliberate rhythm, and yet with each passing moment, this figure seemed to be catching up._

_Though his body felt as though it was being pushed to run at mach two, he knew he wasn't covering any significant ground. Within no time, the figure was less than twenty yards behind him._

_He thrashed his arms, hoping that the movement would propel him forward._

_It didn't._

_It was now ten yards away._

_He kicked now, for perhaps a longer stride would increase the distance._

_It didn't._

_Five yards now separated him from the figure._

_He did what came naturally. He screamed the one name that he knew would always save him._

"BLAINE!"

"Kurt!" Blaine shook the writhing boy rather violently, trying to jar him back into reality. "Kurt, baby, wake up! Kurt!"

After a few more seconds of wild movements, Kurt's bright blue, terror-stricken eyes snapped open, and his limbs instantly fell.

He waited a moment, taking in his surroundings. Though this place, too, was quite dark, the darkness here was warmer than the darkness there. He quickly found the eyes of his boyfriend, brimming over with concern and glowing slightly by the like of the bedside clock. His heart still raced, and breathing was still difficult, so he tried to calm himself. A few somewhat-deep breaths later, he knew this would be impossible.

He suddenly burst into tears, curling into a tight ball under the disheveled covers. The memory of the nightmare danced at the forefront of his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to dispel the horrifying images.

In an instant Blaine had wrapped his arms around the distressed boy, pulling him closer into his own body than he ever had before, rubbing circles into his back and shushing him softly. "Kurt," he murmured. "Love, you're okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I love you. You're not there anymore. You're here. And you're not alone."

And, with that, he began to croon quietly in his lover's ear.

"I've been alone,  
>Surrounded by darkness.<br>I've seen how heartless  
>The world<br>Can be.  
>And I've seen you cryin'.<br>You felt like it's hopeless.  
>I'll always do my best<br>To make  
>You see<p>

That, baby, you're not alone,  
>'Cause you're here with me.<br>And nothing's ever gonna take us down  
>'Cause nothing can keep me from loving you,<br>And you know it's true.  
>It don't matter what'll come to be.<br>Our love is all we need  
>To make it through."<p>

Kurt's sobs had quieted by this point, and he shook less, but Blaine kept singing to him, rocking him gently in his arms.

"Now I know it ain't easy,  
>But it ain't hard tryin'<br>Every time I see you smilin'  
>And I feel you so close to me,<br>And you tell me,

'Baby, you're not alone,  
>'Cause you're here with me.<br>And nothing's ever gonna take us down  
>'Cause nothing can keep me from loving you.<br>And you know it's true.  
>It don't matter what'll come to be.<br>Our love is all we need to make it through.'"

Kurt sat up, rubbing his eyes. Blaine copied him, never breaking his grip. They stayed like that for some time, Kurt continuing to compose himself, Blaine continuing to hold him. Soon, though, Blaine interrupted the silence that had descended upon them.

"Kurt, what happened? You started thrashing about, and you yelled my name."

In a hoarse voice barely above a whisper, Kurt explained. "I have this...recurring nightmare...I've been having it for quite a few years now...and each time, it's so dark I can't even see myself, and I'm trying to run but I'm just moving _so slow _and there's a...figure...behind me, and it's trying to kill me and I'm trying to get away but I just can't because it's moving too fast and I'm moving too slow and I called for you because I didn't know what to do and—"

His hysterical rant was cut short by Blaine's lips. The chaste kiss put to rest some of Kurt's more immediate, pressing fears—namely, one day, that name he knew would always save him wouldn't be there anymore.

Blaine pulled back and smiled. "Nightmares suck, Kurt. But you never have to worry about them, because this, here, us?" He took both of Kurt's hands in his own and squeezed them tightly. "This is reality, and reality will always trump nightmares." He kissed Kurt again, this time a little more passionately, though still very tenderly.

"Wrong," Kurt mumbled against Blaine's lips. "This is a dream."

The other boy laughed lightly, and Kurt shivered a little, even though it was quite warm in the room. He sat for a while, still tangled in Blaine's tight embrace, listening as the shorter boy hummed "Not Alone" in his ear. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy once more, and he yawned.

Blaine chuckled. "Are you ready to give magical dreamland another shot?"

Kurt nodded and then slid back down into a prone position. Blaine followed suit, never letting go of his hold on his boyfriend. The two curled into each other, letting their breathing fall back into its normally harmonious rhythm. All was quiet once more.

Just before he drifted back off to sleep, Blaine mumbled, "Kurt?"

"Yeah?" the other boy replied, his head buried in Blaine's chest.

Blaine swallowed. "What...who was the figure behind you? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious."

Kurt lifted his head slightly, just barely meeting Blaine's eyes. To the other boy's surprise, Kurt looked slightly sheepish.

"It was a clown."

* * *

><p>Who am I shouting out to this time? cloudysock, of course! Thanks for the nightmare prompt-I hope I did it justice.<p>

For those who don't know, the song I used is "Not Alone" by none other than the supermegfoxyawesomehot hobbit who goes by the name of Darren Criss (or does he?). It's one of my favorites of his. I highly recommend-nay, demand-that you listen to it. Because it's gorgeous. And because he's gorgeous.

Short note this time, because even though I've had copious amounts of sugar this morning, I only had five hours of sleep, so...yeah.

I love you guys!


	23. The Smell of Rain

**The Smell of Rain**

The haze outside pressed upon the massive house, but in the safe bubble they were curled in, they were oblivious to this. They lounged on the shorter boy's bed, snuggled under his duvet, partially watching_ The Princess and the Frog_, and partially making out. They were the only souls in the enormous building, and the light raindrops on the roof rang through the emptiness. The voices of the movie eased the awkwardness of such a silence. Eventually, though, the light raindrops increased velocity and quantity.

Blaine broke his gaze away from the television and fixed it upon the porcelain wonder his arms held close. "When did it start raining?"

Kurt lifted his head and looked out the window, surprise coloring his face. "Huh. What do you know?" Even though the window was closed, the sweet smell of rain permeated the room, and Kurt inhaled deeply. "This is perfect lazy weather."

Blaine laughed, and sat up. "I agree." A slow smile spread across his face. "I have an idea."

Kurt groaned. He knew that look far too well. "Oh no." He pushed himself into a sitting position. "Lazy days are not days for ideas, Blaine. They're days for movies and snuggling and naps—not whatever crazy scheme you've concocted in that ridiculously curly head of yours."

Blaine pouted. "But you don't even know what the idea is, Kurt!"

The diva rolled his eyes. "Alright. Let's hear it."

The smile returned. "Well...we're alone...and it's raining...it's all rather romantic..."

"Blaine, I thought we talked about this..." Kurt blushed deeply.

"Huh?" Blaine's triangular eyebrows knit together momentarily, until realization dawned on his face, quickly followed by embarrassed horror. "Oh, God, Kurt no! That's not what I meant!"

Kurt sighed in relief, though his face grew slightly redder. "Okay. Good. Well, then, what were you saying?"

Blaine quickly recovered his former excitement. "Well, how about you and I...go dancing in the rain?" He eyes twinkled by the light of the television, which continued to play the movie the pair had long forgotten.

Kurt's face was blank. "Sweetie...how long have we been dating?"

Blaine looked confused again. "Uh...six and a half months. Why?"

"And in that six and a half months, what indication have I given you that I would enjoy going outside in the pouring rain and ruining an outfit just to make a fool of myself?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "First of all, you _love _making a fool of yourself. Baby, you walked around school dressed as Lady Gaga for two days."

Kurt had to concede on that point.

"And besides," Blaine continued, "sometimes it's up to the boyfriend to take the..._indications _he's been given and...well, ignore them." He slid off the bed and onto his feet, reaching a hand out toward Kurt. "Come on."

Kurt was dumbfounded. _He's serious. _He folded his arms against his chest defiantly. "No."

Blaine shrugged. "Whatever."

And then, without warning, Blaine reached down and scooped an astonished Kurt into his arms. Ignoring the hands clawing at his grip, he left the room and headed for the stairs.

"Blaine _Anderson_!" Kurt exclaimed, trying futilely to get his feet back on the ground. "What in the name of _Gaga _do you think you're doing?" As Blaine began to descend the three flights of stairs to the main level of the house, Kurt's arms whipped around his neck, clinging on for dear life. "Blaine, I swear, if you drop me, I will let Mercedes cut you."

Blaine smiled down at the boy he carried. "You know, this is very _An Officer and a Gentleman._"

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "Well, it would be if you were either an officer or a gentleman, and you are being neither at the moment." He paused for a moment. "It would also be nice if you were Richard Gere wearing a Navy uniform. Actually, now I that I think about it, this is more like the ending of that _Spin City _episode."

"Ooh, doesn't that make me Lou Diamond Philips?"

"Yes." Then Kurt realized something. "Wait. That makes me black."

Blaine merely chuckled as they reached the bottom landing. Kurt expected to be let down, but he was disappointed. Blaine marched straight for the enormous, intricately carved wooden front doors, but stopped short when he reached them. "Um..." He wasn't sure how he was going to put a hand on the knob without dropping his boyfriend.

"Oh, for Gaga's sake." Kurt removed a hand from behind Blaine's neck and opened the door. "You can't even _woo _me without my help."

Blaine stepped out onto the tasteful stone porch and finally allowed Kurt's feet to touch the ground. The taller boy grumbled, straightening his outfit and smoothing his hair. "You know," he said, "normally one carries their lover _into _the home, not _out _of it."

Blaine shrugged again. "I'm breaking _all _the rules today, haven't you noticed? I invited someone over when my parents weren't home, I kissed a boy under my father's roof, I kidnapped said boy, and I am about to drag him into the rain for some frivolous dancing." He leaned forward, his lips inches from Kurt's. "Well, are you coming?"

Before Kurt could answer, Blaine grabbed his hands and charged forth onto the front lawn and into the downpour.

Kurt squealed after the first drop of water touched his body. "Blaine! Oh my, do you know what the humidity is going to do to this fabric?"

Blaine didn't answer. Instead, he wrapped one arm around Kurt's slim waist, keeping a hold of one of his hands. He began to lead the other boy around in large, sloppy circles, laughing hysterically as his curls grew heavier and heavier, quickly falling into his mirth-filled eyes.

Kurt sighed once, but couldn't resist the joy emanating from the boy he held. He, too, began to dance, lifting his face toward the heavens and allowing the rain to coat every inch of his body. The lovers twirled and dipped each other occasionally, laughing uproariously at nothing in particular. In no time, the two were soaked, smelling deliciously of summer rain.

After several minutes of crazy dancing, Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Hey, you know what I just noticed?"

"What?" Blaine murmured in his ear.

"When you look up at the sky...the raindrops coming toward you look like little diamonds."

This, of course, reminded him of a song—a song which he could not help but sing.

"Picture yourself in a boat on a river,  
>With tangerine tree and marmalade skies.<br>Somebody calls you. You answer quite slowly.  
>A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.<p>

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green  
>Towering over your head.<br>Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes  
>And she's gone.<p>

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.  
>Lucy in the sky with diamonds.<br>Lucy in the sky with diamonds.  
>Oh...oh..."<p>

Blaine shook his head lightly, droplets flying everywhere. "What is it with you and the Beatles?"

Kurt was silent for a moment. "My mom was a fan."

Blaine squeezed Kurt in a huge hug. "I love you, you know that?"

Kurt smiled. "I know." He paused. "I love you, too. Want to know how much?"

Blaine pulled away, inspecting Kurt's face. "Alright...how much?"

Kurt's grin widened. "I love you enough to get out of your comfy bed on a lazy day, to let you carry me precariously down the stairs, even though I'm bigger than you, to risking ruining my clothes, my hair, and my skin—all so I can dance with you and see you smile."

Blaine placed a soft, sweet, beautiful kiss on Kurt's lips. "And I thought _I _was a catch."

* * *

><p>Shout-outs: thanks to loveconquers1 for the dancing in the rain idea! I hope I did a good job, because at first I thought it sucked, but I feel like it got better toward the end. Oh, and BananaGleek, I used a Beatles song, just like you asked! I chose this one, a) because I grew up on Elton John's cover of this, and b) I just found out last year in my AP Psych class that "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" is code for LSD. My childhood will never be the same.<p>

If you didn't get the _An Officer and a Gentleman _reference...that sucks for you...and if you don't know what _Spin City _is...you've missed out on life. It's simply the greatest sitcom of all time. OF ALL TIME!

I'd give you a really long A/N...but I'm tired...and I have to wake up early...and I don't have much to say...so yeah...


	24. A Whole New World

**A Whole New World**

He bounced with excitement, eyes darting every which way. The hundreds of people milling about in the tastefully decorated hotel lobby buzzed with the same enthusiasm that coursed through his veins. His heart raced as he took in individuals of every age dressed in get-ups that would raise questions everywhere but there. He was sure that if the anticipation grew any greater, he'd spontaneously combust.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Babe, calm down."

Blaine stared at him in indignant horror. "I will not calm down! Don't you understand where we are?" He gestured madly about the room. "We're at _LeakyCon_, Kurt! The best Harry Potter convention ever!" His eyes shone with pure delight. "We're going to see exhibits of art, and buy crazy gear, and listen to wrock music—"

Kurt looked surprised. "They play rock here? This doesn't seem the type of venue for that. What are we talking, AC/DC? Journey? Something else only Mr. Shue would listen to?"

Blaine sighed in exasperation. "Not _that _kind of rock, Kurt! Wrock! W-R-O-C-K! Wizard rock! You know, like, Harry and the Potters and Draco and the Malfoys!"

A piece of Kurt died inside. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I am, silly!" Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand. "Now let's go!"

Slightly rankled that _he _was being called the silly one, Kurt allowed Blaine to drag him into the fray before them, muttering, "I can't believe I let him fly me all the way to Florida for this."

* * *

><p>Hours later, Kurt was still being hauled by the hand all over the hotel. They jumped from conference room to dining hall to lobby, seeing and hearing and touching and doing <em>everything<em>. Kurt was utterly exhausted.

Blaine, on the other hand, had yet to run out of steam. He still charged forth into every situation with a huge grin on his face, his dark curls whipping about as he tried to see everything at once.

At one point, though, he stopped dead. "Oh. My. Wizard. God."

Kurt refrained from groaning at the phrase. "What is it?"

The shorter boy pointed at a sign right outside a pair of doors. "_Starkid_."

Before Kurt could even ask what that meant, Blaine lunged into the room, weaving his way through the impressive crowd that had gathered in front of a small stage. They stopped near the leftmost side of it. A few yards away from them, up on the stage, stood a young man in his early twenties with sandy blonde hair wearing a blue button-down shirt, fingering an electric keyboard.

Blaine choked. "Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt." Each time he said the name, he tugged on his boyfriend's sleeve.

"_What_?" Kurt hissed.

"_That's AJ Holmes_!" Kurt's facial expression was blank, causing Blaine to sigh impatiently. "AJ Holmes! One of the composers for Starkid Productions!" Still no reaction from Kurt. "Okay, when we get home, I am introducing you to a new kind of musical theatre."

Kurt had to smile at that; he was a sucker for musicals.

AJ began to play a song, and the crowd went wild—apparently they recognized it from the first few notes; Kurt, however, had never heard the piece before.

Less than a minute later, one of the two large wooden doors that they stood near cracked open, and a young, extremely handsome man with dark curls and a stubbly beard poked his head into the room, making rather funny faces. The crowd exploded, Blaine screaming the loudest of all.

"OH MY GOD! IT'S DARREN CRISS!"

Kurt raised his eyebrows. The boy _was_ good-looking. Well, to be more accurate, he was smoking hot. He wore tan jeans and a purple shirt that clung to his impressive chest. Over that was a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up, flaunting his muscular arms. Darren fixed the microphone clipped to his shirt and walked to the middle of the stage.

"How's everybody doing?"

Kurt thought his eardrums would burst.

Darren talked to the audience for another minute or so, and then began singing. Kurt couldn't really pay much attention to the words, though, because found something incredibly intriguing about his looks—other than just being plain gorgeous, of course. Kurt stared at him for a moment, and then looked at Blaine, who was jumping up and down with an expression of pure joy and adoration upon his face. Kurt continued to glance back and forth between the two until he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over to shout into Blaine's ear. "Why didn't you tell me you had a twin?"

Blaine looked at him in surprise. "Huh?"

Kurt gestured to Darren, who was singing his heart out on stage, the audience right along with him. "You and Darren look like twins."

Blaine was mortified. "Kurt! How dare you!"

Kurt's heart sank. What had he said to offend Blaine? Was he angry? How did he screw that up? What was there _to _screw up? He had merely stated a fact—Blaine and Darren were spitting images of each other.

Blaine continued, still shocked. "How dare you compare that glorious, beautiful creature to the likes of me, a regular old scrub?"

Kurt's face was impassive for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. "Regular...old...scrub?" he choked out. "Seriously, Blaine?"

Now Blaine was annoyed. "What?"

Kurt swallowed back giggles. "Well, for starters, Beyoncé called, she wants her lingo back. And also, you are the single most gorgeous person I have ever seen in my life—and we have Orlando Bloom and Ryan Reynolds on the table."

Blaine's triangular eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You think I'm hot?"

This time, it was Kurt who sighed in exasperation. "Of course I do, Blaine! You're gorgeous! You're beautiful! You're desirable! You're—"

"Supermegafoxyawesomehot?" Blaine interjected hopefully.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Kurt merely smiled indulgently at his boyfriend. "Yes, baby. You're supermegafoxyawesomehot."

Then they kissed, a little more passionately than they usually did in public, but no one paid them any mind. They broke apart when the audience screamed again. They watched as another young guy, this one with long dark hair and soul patch, burst through the double doors on the opposite side of the stage. He walked over to Darren, who now strummed a guitar slung around his body, and hugged him.

Blaine bounced higher into the air. "Oh my Rowling, it's Joey! Joey Richter!" Then he sang along with the song that the two on stage continued.

"It's been so long,  
>But we're going back.<br>Don't go for work.  
>Don't go there for class.<br>As long as we're together,  
>Gonna kick some ass,<br>And it's gonna be totally awesome!  
>This year we'll take everybody by storm,<br>Stay up all night,  
>Sneak out of our dorm."<p>

Just then, a tall, beautiful brunette entered through the same door Darren used. A sign hung around her neck, reading, "Bonnie Gruesen?" An arrow pointed up at her face.

"Well, let's not forget  
>That we need to perform<br>Well in class  
>If we want to pass our OWLs!"<p>

The crowd screamed as she sang into her mic. Joey marched over to her and lifted her sign, glaring. "You're not Bonnie!"

The girl—"It's Jamie Lyn Beatty!" Blaine shouted in Kurt's ear—shrugged and kept singing.

"I may be frumpy,  
>But I'm super-smart.<br>Check out my grade,  
>They're As for a start.<br>What I lack in looks,  
>Well, I make up in heart,<br>And, well, guys, yeah that's totally awesome!  
>This year I plan<br>To study a lot."

"That would be cool if you were actually hot!" Joey cut across her, much to the delight of the crowd.

The song continued, each singer, in character, playing his or her part well. More artists joined them on stage, each newcomer receiving a shout of appreciation from the crowd. When the song ended—and that one was nearly ten minutes long—they sang more. It was hard to tell who was having a better time, the performers or the crowd.

Kurt looked over at Blaine and smiled. The other boy didn't notice the attention because his was focused on the people on stage. His eyes danced with excitement and his body rocked with enthusiasm. He sung every single word right with the performers, his voice shaking from movement and emotion. Kurt may not have had a single idea what was going on, but he that he loved whatever it was, because it made his boyfriend happy. He decided then and there that he would find out more about this _Starkid Productions_, and he would watch each of their performances; if this part of Blaine's life was so important to him, Kurt wanted—nay, needed—to be a part of it.

He wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist. "Hey, I really love you, you know that?"

Blaine's grin grew impossibly wider at the whisper in his ear. "I love you, too," he murmured back, placing his hands on top of Kurt's. "Thank you for coming with me."

"No." Kurt kissed Blaine lightly on his neck. "Thank you for bringing me into your beautiful world."

* * *

><p>First, let me thank LunaGleek14 for the awesome prompt! I thought it was going to suck, but it took on a life of its own, and I personally love it! I was surprised at how long it turned out to be, too; I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to write much.<p>

Second, let me say right now that I did NOT go to LeakyCon. Any information that I've provided either comes from their website or from the video of Starkid singing "Goin' Back to Hogwarts" on YouTube. If I got something wrong, or I wrote about something that didn't happen, suck it up. Oh, and I know that LeakyCon happened in July, and the whole legalization of gay marriage in New York happened afterward, but we're going to ignore the chronological hiccup here and pretend that the New York thing happened in early July, okay? No? SUCK IT UP!

Third, I SAW GLEE! It was alright. I don't think it was worth the ridiculous price, and I felt that Darren was completely gypped. The Warblers deserved more than three songs. I really wanted Darren and Chris to sing "Animal," pretty much just for Chris's "sexy dance." (Although, I sincerely loved watching his hips in "Born This Way.") OH! And they cut out the Klaine/Brittany skit, which really pissed me off, because that's the number one thing I wanted to see. Especially the one in which Darren plants a kiss right on Chris's face with no warning or script whatsoever. THAT was hilarious.

Fourth, there is a moral to this story. If you let your enthusiasm for Starkid shine like Blaine did, you can convince someone to watch it, like Kurt! Spread the good news, Starkiddies! We must let the whole world know of their total awesomeness!

Fifth, if you don't know about Starkid, you deserve to be confused. Go look them up now. Right now. Stop reading, open a new tab or window or whatever, go on YouTube, and look it up. Don't even finish this A/N. Don't even finish this sentence! Why are you still reading? GO!

Sixth, sorry it took me so long to update. I have had THE busiest weekend. But, to make up for it, I'm uploading two new chapters today, so stay tuned. Also, get used to a few more days between updates, because I start school tomorrow. (Excuse me while I go crawl into a corner and bawl my eyes out.) I'll try to write during class some, but with five AP classes, I really need to pay attention.

Seventh, thank you all so much for the love and support I've received for this story. It's seriously boosted my self-confidence (in a good way, not a pretentious way), and it's renewed my love of writing. Seriously, you guys rock!

Eighth, sorry for the really long A/N.


	25. Barista

**Barista**

The heavenly aroma of coffee swirled in the summer heat as light babble filled the Lima Bean. From their usual table for two, they could see a family of four in the corner, a harried-looking young woman in her mid-twenties typing furiously on a laptop a few tables over, and a gaggle of preteens that had pushed a couple of tables together to make room for their numbers. As they sipped their nonfat mocha and medium drip, they people-watched, holding hands on the table top.

"Hey Kurt, look over there."

The eyes of the boy in question followed Blaine's pointing finger. Behind the counter, Alison, the beautiful barista whom the two had come to know quite well, tossed her thick, ginger hair over her shoulder as she spoke shyly to a tall, tan guy on the other side. He leaned across the counter, talking in a low voice to Alison, who blushed profusely.

Kurt looked back at Blaine, who grinned at the flirting couple. "Aren't they so cute?"

Blaine's smile morphed into a rather sultry expression. "You know...they kind of remind me of us."

"Us?" Kurt scoffed. "We've never been so...forward with each other. Especially in public."

Blaine raised a single triangular eyebrow. Then he leaned across the counter, his face stopping about a foot away from Kurt's red one. "Really? Is that what you think? Because I've heard differently, particularly from the Warblers."

Kurt blinked rapidly, trying to calm his speeding heart. "Blaine...we never do stuff like this."

Blaine chuckled softly, and Kurt's heart leapt into overdrive. "Come on, Kurt. How many times have we gone to the park and been completely free physically? How many times have we held hands and flirted shamelessly in here or in other restaurants? How many times have our friends had to tell us to get a room?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine was right. "Well in that case...I think we're cuter than them." He motioned to Alison and the guy at the counter.

Blaine's face grew contemplative, and then his grin broke out again. "You know what, Mr. Hummel? I think you just might be right." And then he closed the distance between himself and his boyfriend with his lips.

The kiss wasn't particularly remarkable; there was passion, sure, and plenty of heat, but more than that, there was simple familiarity, and the two enjoyed it immensely.

They did, at least, until a loud cough interrupted their moment of bliss. They broke apart and looked up at an angry-looking man in his late thirties. They recognized him from the family in the corner.

He glared down at them. "Take that disgustingness somewhere else! There are children here!"

Blaine and Kurt gaped, unsure of how to react. Kurt's already blushed face grew redder, and he opened his mouth to retort angrily. Before he could, however, an empty coffee cup flew across the room and hit the father smack in the middle of his forehead. The three at the table—along with everyone else in the shop, who had abandoned their conversations to observe the exchange taking place—turned to look in surprise at Alison, who glowered lividly at the man.

"You!" She pointed at him, her eyes shooting daggers. "You and your family can leave this place right now. You are no longer welcome here."

Blaine, Kurt, and the guy Alison had been flirting with stared at her in awe, while the man merely shot her a dirty look, spun on his heel, and stalked off toward his family. The four grabbed their belongings and marched for the door, the young boys slightly confused, the parents refusing to look anyone in the eye.

An awkward silence descended upon the café when the four left. Blaine and Kurt stared sheepishly into their coffees, still holding hands, still shaken by the confrontation. Alison asked the guy at the counter to wait for a second, and then walked up to the two at their table.

"Hey guys." She smiled when they looked up at her. "Don't worry about douchebags like him. He doesn't matter."

Blaine and Kurt stared into each other's eyes, communicating silently as they so often did. They knew it wasn't that big of deal. They'd been confronted before about their relationship, but it was always so much worse when it was done in public. Both of their minds flashed back to the county fair, and Kurt shuddered.

Blaine squeezed his hand. "There are so many douchebags in the world..."

Alison clapped each of them on the shoulder. "Come on, boys, let's have some scones, on the house!"

The lovers shrugged and stood up. "Sounds good to me," Kurt said. "And maybe you could introduce us to someone...?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Alison flushed. "Oh, that's...well, alright."

Alison led the boys back over to the counter. She introduced them to the tan guy, whose name was Tyler, and the four of them each grabbed a scone and settled down at a table, chatting amiably with one another. At one point, when Kurt and Tyler had wrapped themselves up in a discussion about the pros and cons of tanning, Blaine leaned over to whisper in Alison's ear.

"Thank you."

Alison merely winked in reply, taking another nibble off of her scone.

* * *

><p>So, shorter one this time. This story line was suggested to me by loveconquers1, and I really appreciate it. I always love sassy gingers.<p>

Virtual bear hug goes out to loveconquers1, too, because she found the AVPS reference from the chapter "Five" (gay as the Fourth of July)! Another VBH will be given to the first person to identify the AVPS reference in this chapter! Actually, there's kind of one and a half reference in here; the half is not about the plays, but about Starkid itself. I won't give you any further hints than that.

Keep the review and suggestions coming, people! I love 'em!


	26. You

**You**

Only two souls brought the house to life, but only two were enough. Their giggles rang through the empty rooms. Up in the bedroom, sheets went flying every which way and pillows were tossed about haphazardly. Soon, the bed was stripped, the floor was cluttered with bedclothes, and the two responsible were out of breath.

Blaine let out a loud chuckle. "This is the best idea you've had since you decided to organize my closet."

Kurt shrugged modestly. "I figured that we've watched movies in bed too many times. It's time we shook things up."

"I've had a good influence on you," Blaine mused. "So how should we fix this thing?"

Kurt considered that for a moment. "Yeah...we should've planned this _before _we took all the sheets off the bed."

Blaine shook his head. "No, I have just the thing." He darted out of the room and down the stairs. From the bedroom, Kurt could hear light banging and scraping, and a minute or so later, a series of loud thumps resounded from the staircase. Blaine appeared in the doorway, breathless and dragging two kitchen chairs behind him.

Kurt leapt from his place on the bare mattress. "Blaine! Why didn't you just ask me to help you?"

That caused Blaine to wrinkle his brow. "Huh. I don't know."

He lugged the chairs into the room and set one on each side. Then he and Kurt lifted a sheet and spread it over the backs, letting a third side drape over the lamp on the nightstand. They overlapped a second sheet over the first, allowing the end to fall to the floor. They each collected a handful of pillows and ducked into their fort, Kurt also bringing his laptop.

The boyfriends settled themselves into comfortable positions, Blaine arranging the pillows and Kurt loading the DVD on the large computer screen. When both were set, Kurt leaned back into Blaine's open arms.

"Hey...you know what I just realized?" Blaine murmured as the FBI anti-piracy warning lit up the space.

"What?"

Blaine smirked. "We just built a fort out of sheets."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Looking up at his boyfriend, he groaned, "Why did I not see that coming?"

The disc menu appeared and Kurt clicked play. Soon the two were cuddled together enjoying an afternoon showing of _Finding Nemo_. Right about the time when the school of silver fish was mocking Marlin's troubles, Blaine paused the movie with his toe.

"Blaine, please don't put your feet on my laptop! That's _so _unsanitary." Kurt frowned when Blaine merely chuckled. "What did you stop it for, anyway? I love this part."

Blaine kissed the top of his silly boyfriend's head. "I'm _hungry_, Kurt. It's nearly three, and I forgot to eat lunch before I came over."

Kurt hopped off the ground. "Well, come on then." He stretched a hand out, pulling Blaine to his feet. "I'll make us something."

"Oh Kurt, you don't—" The shorted boy started to protest, but he was cut off.

"Nope! No way, Blaine Anderson, you are not denying me the opportunity to flaunt my culinary skills in front of my vastly more talented boyfriend."

"Kurt...shut up." Blaine wrapped an arm around the younger boy's waist as the two descended the stairs. "You are so much better than me at so many things, you're giving me an inferiority complex."

"Oh yeah?" Kurt raised an eyebrow as he stopped onto the ground floor. "Like what?"

Blaine now snaked both arms around Kurt's frame, whispering in his ear, "Fishing for compliments, are we, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt broke out of Blaine's embrace. Dancing away, he called over his shoulder, "Maybe you can give them to me while I make us paninis."

Mouth watering, Blaine scurried after Kurt. He perched himself on the counter, watching the other boy bustle about the space.

"Well, let's see," Blaine began. "Your fashion sense is clearly superior." He laughed as Kurt stopped in his tracks and struck a brief diva pose. "You actually know how to do useful household stuff. You have a much broader range of musical tastes. You can keep yourself clean. You speak French fluently. You have this strange ability to make everyone love you. You have _the _most impressive collection of scarves I've ever seen."

Kurt listened to all of this, stifling a broad grin, as he moved about assembling lunch. He handed Blaine one plate of the finished meal and motioned for him to follow. The two hurried back upstairs, anxious both to eat and to be in their cozy fort once more.

"You can hit the high F," Blaine continued, settling himself down among the pillows. He bit into his panini and groaned slightly. "You make the best damn panini I've ever tasted. You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. You can smile without showing your teeth and still light up a room. You are compassionate and kind, no matter how many times you've been hurt."

By this time, both had forgotten entirely about lunch. They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, drinking in what they found there. Blaine set his plate aside and leaned forward, taking Kurt's hands in his own. "You are my teenage dream. I love you."

The silence that descended upon them was neither awkward nor overwhelming. They simply sat together, allowing the warm stillness to envelop them. Then, with no real instigation—not that one was needed—Kurt pressed his lips softly but surely onto those of his boyfriend.

"All that stuff you mentioned earlier?" he murmured against Blaine's lips. "You are so right."

* * *

><p>I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, SSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY that this is so late. School started on Monday (<em><strong>sob<strong>_), and I'm trying to get used to five AP classes. Heavy emphasis on the trying. I'm afraid that five chapters a week just isn't possible anymore. I will try my darnedest to upload two every week, plus a third during the weekend. I'm finding it very hard to schedule writing time in, though; I've resorted to carrying a notebook with me everywhere, just in case I have thirty seconds or a minute every once in a while to jot down a sentence.

Now, shout-out to Horsegahl for the prompt of building a fort! Okay, granted, the story didn't have much to do with the fort. My main motivation for using it was to make a "Teenage Dream" reference.

Speaking of references, virtual bear hugs to both Gleek-Bertha-Cecily and vernonthecat for getting the AVPS reference from the last chapter! Gleek-Bertha-Cecily got the main one first, which was, "There are so many douchebags in the world." (It's from "Guys Like Potter" in AVPS, if you can't remember or have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.) Then vernonthecat was the first person to get both of them-not just the douchebags line, but also the fact that I named the tan guy Tyler, after the one, the only, the amazing, the epic, the supermegafoxyawesomehot Tyler Brunsman (who, completely coincidentally, is one of the two actors who sings "Guys Like Potter").

I am already working on Chapter 27, so I hope to have it up by Friday! (No promises though. Seriously, don't hold your breath for it. I mean, you can, but you'd probably die. I do not advocate death as a result of waiting for my crappy story.)

On a totally unrelated note, my Starkid shades should be here by Friday! OH! And Ann Arbor, Michigan was mentioned in my AP US History textbook! This excites me to no end. There was no mention of U of M, though, so it wasn't that great.

I'll just up now.

Review!

Suggest!

Critique!

Bow down before me!

Seriously, I'm shutting up now.


	27. His Father

**His Father**

Sighing, he clicked his mouse once more. When Facebook and YouTube grew too boring for words, he thought his brain was going to explode. Of course, he doubted anything could pique his interest after that afternoon. The thick sense of dread in his stomach had yet to dissipate; arguments with his father always left him in shambles. He snorted. _Arguments. _That made it sound as though he fought back—as though he fought for himself.

He never did.

His cowardice weighed on his mind the most heavily of all. The hypocrisy of his situation was shameful. How many times had he told his boyfriend to have courage? Yet here he sat, alone, sun sinking rapidly in the pink summer sky, wallowing in guilt, replaying the scene over and over again in his head.

_He stood frozen in his doorway. His father's imposing frame towered over his small one, gripping a photograph in his fist._

"_Who is he?" His father's deep voice shook with rage. "Who _the hell _is he?"_

_He swallowed hard, determined to make a stand this time. When his father's soulless hazel eyes glared relentlessly into his own terror-stricken ones, however, his resolve crumbled._

"_Kurt."_

_Despite the fear that caused his entire body to quiver, the sound of the name that escaped from his lips sent a brief rush of strength through his body._

"_What did you say, boy?" his father snarled._

_The slight lingering of boldness allowed him to response a little more loudly. "His name is Kurt."_

_His father's already crimson face sped through a variety of different colors: green, purple, blue, pink. Finally, though, it settled back on beet red._

_His father then asked the question he was praying to avoid. "And what is he to you?" When he didn't answer, his father yelled louder. "I asked, WHAT IS HE TO YOU?"_

_His voice was gone. He could only shake his head._

**CRACK!**

_His head whipped to the side, his right cheek stinging from where the back of his father's clenched fist collided with his face. His hand flew to the blossoming bruise, and his hazel eyes flicked upward in disgust._

_His father's voice was now deadly calm. "You will answer my question. Who. Is. He. To. You?"_

_His eyes fell once more. "My boyfriend." The words came out in a whisper._

_The silence was almost worse than the shouts. He couldn't gauge how long the two of them stood there, one quaking with rage, the other with fear._

_Then, without warning, his father clapped a strong hand on his shoulder and tossed him into the room. He flew into the nightstand, the crown of his head cracking against the wood. When he looked up, he gasped in horror; his father shredded the strip of pictures from the photo booth at the mall into tiny pieces, allowing the bits to drift to the floor._

_When he finished, he rumbled, "You will stay in here until you realize that your blasphemous ways are destroying both our lives and your own, and until you decide to get over this disgusting phase _and _that disgusting boy."_

_With a final glare, his father spun on his heel and marched from the room, slamming and locking the door behind him._

And he so curled up on his bed, still trying to keep his breathing and heartbeat under control. Shame burned within him; he wasn't sure he'd be able to look Kurt in the eye, not after failing to defend his honor.

That's when he heard it: a light thump on the wall. He looked around, immediately terrified—had his father returned? When he heard the sound again, however, his fear morphed into confusion; the noise most certainly came from the window, not the door. He clambered off of his bed and headed toward the window, jumping in surprise as an acorn pinged off the glass.

He slid up the bottom pane and stuck his head out. Looking down, he could just make out a figure in the dark.

"Kurt?"

The figure waved. "Hey Blaine!"

"Sh!" The knot in Blaine's stomach grew exponentially. "Kurt, what the hell are you doing here?"

Blaine's eyes had adjusted to the dark by this point, and his heart sank as he watched Kurt's grin fall.

"Blaine, I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, Kurt," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I was rude. But really, though, what _are _you doing here?"

The mischievous smirk returned. "I'm being hopelessly romantic. I'm sneaking you out and taking you to dinner."

Right on cue, Blaine's stomach growled. It was nearly eight-thirty, and lunch had been at one.

Blaine shook that off. "Kurt, that sounds amazing, but...I can't leave right now."

Kurt grimaced. "Why not?"

"Because I'm...busy..." Blaine answered shiftily.

"Don't you lie to me, Blaine Anderson. What's going on?"

His heart raced again. What should he say? The truth would break Kurt's heart, but so would any sort of deception.

The truth it was.

"Kurt..." Even though he was three stories above the ground and whispering, Blaine could still be heard, just barely. "Kurt...my father locked me in here." He winced as he heard Kurt's hand clap over his mouth.

"Oh, Blaine..."

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but, I'll just—I'll talk to you later." Blaine pulled his head back inside.

"No, wait!" Kurt practically shouted.

"Kurt, quiet!" Blaine hissed, sticking his head back out. "Kurt, if...if he found out you were here—he'd kill you."

Kurt swallowed. "Blaine, just hold on for a second, okay? I'll be right back." Then he disappeared into the darkness.

Blaine leaned against his windowsill, staring out at nothing. The feeling of dread still ate him alive, but seeing Kurt, even drenched in blackness, eased the ache slightly.

Kurt returned five minutes later, something wrapped around his shoulder. "Okay, Blaine, move out of the way."

"Kurt..." Blaine groaned cautiously as he watched his boyfriend swing something that looked suspiciously like a rope over his head. "If he comes back and I'm not here—"

"Then you'll be safe, with me. Now move."

With a sigh, Blaine stepped to side. Seconds later, a thick knot flew through the window. Blaine caught it before it slid back outside. He tied the rope tightly around his nightstand, shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets, and grabbed the rope firmly in his hands. He stuck one leg out first, and then the other. Then he propelled himself down the side of the house, surprisingly silent. When his feet touched the grass, he allowed the rope to dangle, knowing he'd need a way back in.

Kurt wrapped Blaine in a tight hug. As the shorter boy's shoulders began to shake, he whispered, "Hey now, shush. You're okay. I parked a little ways down the street, but we'll go and eat dinner and talk, okay?" He felt Blaine nod.

Kurt and Blaine walked slowly to Escalade, the former keeping an arm around the latter's shoulder, the latter trying to compose himself. They climbed in the vehicle and Kurt began to drive. Neither spoke; they merely held hands on tops of the center console.

Soon Kurt pulled up to a city park. Blaine glanced about, confused. "What are we doing here?"

Kurt didn't answer. He simply climbed out of the car and quickly moved to the passenger door, holding it open for Blaine. When the shorter boy was out, Kurt lifted open the trunk, rummaging around until he pulled out a large wicker picnic basket.

Blaine laughed. "Kurt, we're eating here?"

"Of course, silly!" Kurt closed the trunk and linked arms with Blaine. The couple walked into the park, ignoring the sign that read, "DO NOT ENTER AFTER HOURS," and stopped in an area near a streetlamp.

Kurt sat the basket down, pulling out a white-and-red checkered blanket. With Blaine's help, he spread it over the grass. Then the two settled down, retrieving food from the inner depths of the basket. Soon the boys were enjoying a delicious meal of egg salad sandwiches, watermelon, and iced tea.

Kurt had to break silence. "So, tell me what happened."

Blaine swallowed a mouthful of watermelon. "He found the photos we took at the mall."

Kurt thought about that for a second, and then gasped. The last of the four pictures on the strip featured the two boys kissing deeply.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered. "What did he do?"

Wordlessly, Blaine stood and positioned himself in the light so Kurt could see him properly for the first time. The seated boy gasped. The blue-and-black patch on Blaine's cheek was sickening. It had spread across much of his light tan skin.

Kurt's stomach flipped. "Oh my God, Blaine...this is all my fault..."

"No!" Blaine collapsed to his knees, taking Kurt's hands in his own. "This is not your fault." He took a deep breath. "Kurt...I have a confession to make." He waited for Kurt to speak, but the other boy merely stared intently at him, so he continued. "When my father...threatened us, and insulted you..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't even defend us, Kurt. I didn't defend you. I didn't even try."

"Oh, Blaine..." Kurt kissed him lightly. "Shut up. You don't have to _defend _me. Your father's...views about us don't matter to me. You." He placed a hand on either side of Blaine's face, gingerly brushing the bruise. "_You _matter to me. Are you ashamed of me?"

Blaine's hazel eyes widened in fear. "Oh God, Kurt, no, of course I'm—"

"Then we are _good_." Kurt pressed his lips against Blaine's once more, this time a little more deeply. When they broke apart, both smiled through tears.

The boyfriends lay down together on the picnic blanket, as close as physics would allow them to be, and gazed into the starless black abyss above. They knew they would have to leave, to say goodbye, to hope with all their hearts that Mr. Anderson did not discover that his son had snuck out of the house. But for just another moment, they could be together, and they could be happy.

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Whoa! Two chapters in two days? Aren't I amazing? Okay, you can stop laughing at me now. Anyways, sorry this chapter is so long. I kind of just started and then couldn't stop. I mean, I could've kept going, but they're supposed to be short stories, so I cut myself off. That's probably why the ending is so awkward.<p>

Shout-out to LunaGleek14! Okay, I know your prompt was something along the lines of Blaine surprising Kurt with a romantic dinner, and that's kind of not at all what happened, so let me explain. I felt that everyone (myself included) is always writing about how Blaine's always making these spontaneous, fluffy, romantic gestures, and Kurt gets to gush over him, and that's all fine and dandy, but I think that makes Kurt look lame. So I decided to have Kurt surprise Blaine instead. Granted, this story had little to do with the dinner and more to do with Blaine's father. Yeah, I have no idea where the hell that came from. I just started writing and, hey, there it was!

I've gotten some really touching reviews from many of you, and I want to say thanks a trillion for them. However, the reviews that really caught my eye were the ones concerning my A/Ns down here. Apparently I'm funny. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? I'm so lame there aren't words for me.

Anyways, thanks for your continued support and love, whether it be for the stories or my eternal nuttiness down here. You guys really mean a lot to me; I'd never have challenged myself to pick up writing again if I didn't have dozens of people yelling at me every few days to update. As a matter of fact, I mentioned you all in an AP Lang assignment. We were supposed to respond to an essay about good writing, and in said essay we were told to "publish stuff online, because an audience makes you write more, and thus generate more ideas." (Those aren't my word, FYI.) I wrote about how true that was, because you guys are kind of the only reason I write anymore. SO DON'T GO AWAY! I NEED YOUR LOVE! READERS! READERS! YOU CAME TO LOVE ME!

Sorry, I seemed to be channeling Lauren Lopez at the moment...

THAT REMINDS ME! There might be a Starkid reference in here. And I don't mean "might" like your teachers do when they said, "This MIGHT be on the quiz," when you know that means that it WILL be on the quiz. I mean might as in I have no idea if there is or not. If you find one, even if it's a stretch, you will get an AWESOME virtual bear hug at the end of my next chapter.

Damn, I'm a rambler, aren't I?


	28. Lessons

**Lessons**

Fingers aching, he sighed. They had only been working for half an hour, but he felt as though his brain and his hands were about to explode. The smooth wood of the guitar started to cut painfully into his thigh, and the strings dug deeply into his flesh. It would take him _forever _to fix that. He could hear the distant, muffled shots of one of the machine guns in Finn's video game, and, even more quietly, the blast of a referee's whistle from the television downstairs. Up in his bedroom, he and his boyfriend sat side by side on the bed. He held the guitar awkwardly in his lap, allowing the other boy to adjust his hands as necessary.

"Kurt, you're a fret off."

Kurt glared up at Blaine. He would have made a snarky retort, but he was too busy trying to remember what a fret was. Sighing, Blaine reached one arm around Kurt's shoulders and moved his hands, pressing his sore fingertips onto the strings in their appropriate places. Then, with the other hand, he began strumming. Kurt's aggravation melted; even though he wasn't playing much of anything, Blaine and his talent never failed to make Kurt's heart swell.

"Just like that, see?" Blaine nudged Kurt's head with his own. "You've got this. Now hop on over to D7."

After a few long moments of concentration, Kurt slid his left index finger to the first fret, second string, his middle finger to the second fret, first string, and his ring finger to the second fret, third string. The sound was higher now, and Kurt rather enjoyed it. Of course, the scent and feel of Blaine's warm coffee breathe on the back of his neck didn't hurt.

Trying to impress his boyfriend, Kurt attempted to move his fingers gracefully back to G, but they became fumbled amongst each other, and the pressure of the strings finally became too much for his sensitive pads.

"Ow!" he yelped. He pulled his hand away from the neck of the guitar. "Damn, Blaine, how do you handle this?"

Laughing, Blaine waggled his own fingers in front of Kurt's eyes. "After a while, they become calloused, and it doesn't hurt to press down."

Grumbling, Kurt laid the guitar in the open case on the floor. "I just don't think I'm going to get the hang of this."

"Of course you will, Kurt!" Blaine took his boyfriend's aching hands in his own and began massaging them gently. "You just have to give it time. You have such a natural proclivity for music. I know that you can do this. Just pretend that mastering this instrument is like trying to hit that high F for the first time. You had to work at it right?" Kurt nodded. "Well, this is the same deal. Only this time, you have me to help you." He leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on Kurt's lips.

All thoughts of guitars and high Fs left Kurt's mind. He pulled his hands out of Blaine's and snaked them around his neck, playing with the curls there. Intrigued, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, tugging him closer. Their mouths explored each other's faces and necks, tongues trailing behind curiously. Kurt groaned first, sending electric shocks across Blaine's skin. Responding immediately, Blaine ease Kurt back onto the bed, hovering lightly over him, still roaming the topography of the younger boy's face with his lips. Kurt's hands left Blaine's neck, sliding slowly down his sides, caressing the accessible skin beneath the thin tee shirt he wore. When the hands reached the hem of said shirt, they slid up, tracing every single muscle of Blaine's back. Then Blaine let out a deep moan, right against the hollow of Kurt's neck. Kurt lifted a leg and wrapped it around Blaine's lower half, pulling the pair closer together. They continued to move together, tangled up in each other's embraces, until something killed the mood.

"Oh, shit!" Kurt squealed. He began to try to wiggle out from under Blaine, who looked concerned.

"What happened, Kurt? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah..." Face crimson, Kurt tried to roll over, but the two were too close to make movement easy. "I just have to...oh my Gaga...this is awful..."

Hurt, Blaine started to ask what was wrong. He stopped short, though, when he felt it.

"Oh. _Oh_."

Kurt desperately wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole. Since he was on a bed in a second-story room, that wasn't very practical a wish. "I am so sorry, Blaine. Oh, Gaga, this is _so _embarrassing..."

"Kurt, stop." Blaine carefully extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and sat back; as soon as he did so, Kurt crossed his legs hurriedly. "This isn't that big of a deal, honestly. This happens to a lot of guys—I mean, hey, look at Finn..."

"Yes, because Finn is _exactly _what I want to be thinking about at the moment." Kurt's face still glowed with embarrassment. "There we are, enjoying a nice, sensual make-out session, and bam! Biology has to get in the way."

"Kurt, it's fine."Blaine grabbed his boyfriend's hand. "Look, we're both messes right now. Why don't we each go into a bathroom and clean ourselves up, okay? Then we can come back and work some more on the guitar."

Kurt nodded. "Sounds good. I'll take the bathroom here, and you can use the one down the hall."

With a smile, Blaine left the room.

Twenty minutes later, the two were seated on the bed once more, completely clothed and comfortable—with the exception of Kurt's painful fingertips.

"So wait...which one is C again?"

Blaine sighed. It was going to be a long lesson.

* * *

><p>Okay, so, in my own personal opinion, this chapter sucked. Sorry guys. I really like the prompt (this one was from BananaGleek), but I felt like I bungled it completely. I was just in the mood for some hot Klisses, and...this is what happened. It didn't help that I spent a grand total of, like, ten minutes writing this. I'm really tired right now, but I felt like updating, so...sorry.<p>

Short A/N this time because, like I said, I'm bushed. And I need to pack for a trip tomorrow. That I leave for in twelve hours. Woo-hoo.

AND MY STARKID GLASSES HAVEN'T ARRIVED YET! It's been nine days since I've ordered them. Ann Arbor is not that far away! Come on, USPS! Hurry up!

Sorry, shutting up now.


	29. The Wager

**The Wager**

The purr of the two motors danced through the air, jiving with the musical honks of mallard ducks and waltzing with the quiet ripples that graced the crystal blue surface of the pond. With the exception of a family of three eating a picnic lunch across the water, the two boys stood alone in the small neighborhood park. Of course, that was neither surprising nor extraordinary; Ohio State University was hosting an exhibition football game on that particular Saturday, so the whole of Lima sat glued to their televisions.

These two boys seized this opportunity to enjoy a quiet, peaceful afternoon—at least, it was peaceful, until the unthinkable happened.

_**SPLASH!**_

"Blaine!" Kurt whined. "Look what you did!"

Blaine gaped indignantly. "What _I _did? You most definitely crashed your boat into _mine_, not the other way around."

"Oh please," Kurt scoffed. "I was nowhere near you! I was going straight, and then you came out of nowhere." He noticed Blaine stifling a rather broad smirk. "What?"

With a shake of his curly head, the other boy replied, "Nothing."

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" Kurt pointed an accusing finger at Blaine, and then he gestured toward the slowly sinking remote-controlled boat.

"No!" Blaine tried to look sincere, but his flood of snickers could be contained no longer.

"Then why are you laughing?" Kurt placed his hands on his hips, looking particularly diva.

Blaine gave in. "Sweetie, you stopped going straight long before I came along."

Kurt's brow wrinkled momentarily, and then he gasped. "Blaine Anderson!" He slapped the boy in question on the arm. "You are so juvenile!"

Blaine flinched. "Sorry. I suppose I need to stop spending so much time with Wes and David."

Kurt sighed, turning back to face the water. "Well, what do we do now?"

Blaine draped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "I think I should steer my boat back here, and, since I clearly won the race, you should keep up your end of our bet."

The _bitch, please _glare that Kurt aimed at Blaine was absolutely terrifying. "One, you cheated, because you sunk my boat. Two, you did _not _in fact win the race, because if you look closely, your ship has failed to reach the other side of the pond thus far. Three, if you think I'm going give up that easily, you have clearly never met me."

Blaine smirked and cocked a single triangular eyebrow. Then he removed his arm from around Kurt and, using the remote-controller in his hands, began to direct his tiny boat toward the family on the opposite side of the water.

"No way!" Kurt exclaimed, making a grab for the electric unit. "No fair!"

Blaine jerked away from Kurt's hands. "Hey, no cheating, Hummel! I'm going to get my ship there and back, _before yours_, and you are going to concede that I am the better the helmsman!" With that, he ran alongside the bank of the pond, determined to win.

Kurt tore after his boyfriend. "Blaine Warbler Anderson! You get your sorry butt back here!" Despite his longer legs, Kurt was unable to catch up to Blaine in skinny jeans. Blaine's boat touched the sandy shore of the pond. Its owner snatched it up, waving apologetically to the family, and took off again, racing for the car. He reached it a minute and half later, collapsing against the door, Kurt still on his heels. He dug in his pockets, fumbling for his keys, and managed to unlock the door when Kurt was only ten yards away. He jumped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it.

Kurt banged on the side of the car. "Blaine, what the hell? Let me in!"

Blaine rolled down the window. "I'll unlock the car when you admit that I won."

Kurt pouted. "But..."

Blaine shook his head, his eyebrow raised once more. "I'm waiting."

Kurt groaned in an annoyed sort of way. "Fine. Blaine, you win."

The smirk that played across Blaine's face widened. "Excellent." He pushed a button on the door, and jerked his head toward the interior. "Come on in."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt slouched to the passenger door and climbed in. He was greeted by a gleeful kiss from Blaine, who then started the car and began driving. Kurt was apprehensive; he knew exactly where Blaine was headed, and he desperately didn't want to go through with it. He had resigned himself to his fate, though, when Blaine pulled up in the driveway of the Hudson-Hummel residence.

Ignoring Blaine, Kurt exited the vehicle and walked slowly to his front door, regretting ever making that stupid wager in the first place. Blaine caught up to him, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's waist. The two moved in the tandem into the house, greeted by the sight of Finn and Burt settled on the couch, eyes locked on the large television screen before them, a beer in Burt's hand. Kurt tried to duck up the stairs, but Blaine kept his firm hold on the boy and steered him toward a chair. Blaine sat first, and Kurt perched himself on his lap.

That ripped the attentions of the two on the couch away from the television. "Hey man, not here. I'm trying to watch the game!" Finn whined.

Kurt glared at him. "Then I suppose this will be your punishment for the whole Facebook debacle." He heard Blaine snort appreciatively behind him.

Burt looked as though he was about to object, but he simply shrugged and turned back to the game. "Had that coming, Finn."

The oversized teenager grumbled, but he, too, returned his attention to the screen—but only for a moment. His head whipped back to gawk at Kurt. "Wait a minute—what are _you _doing down here, watching a football game? Why aren't you still at the park, or up in your room making out?"

Burt shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

Blaine barked out a laugh. "Kurt bet me that he could get his motorboat to the other side of the pond before I could, and he was sadly mistaken. So now he has to sit through the rest of the game—without complaining."

Choosing to ignore that last statement, Kurt glowered up at the ceiling. "Yeah, but only because you cheated."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Guys, shut up!" Burt's eyes left the screen once more. "Halftime is almost over."

That caught Finn and Blaine's attentions. The latter shifted so he could see around the boy in his lap. Soon, the Buckeyes were kicking off to their rivals, the University of Michigan Wolverines. Burt and Finn hissed in disapproval as the special teams' receiver ran the kick-off back for a thirty-five-yard gain.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm an OSU fan, but I've never had anything against Michigan. They've got a great theatre program there."

Slowly, so slowly, Burt and Finn turned their heads to gaze in awe at the curly-headed boy. "What did you say?" Finn whispered.

Blaine's eyes widened in fear. "I don't get the whole rivalry. I mean, OSU _does _have a better football team, so there's really no point."

After a few more uncomfortable moments, the two on the couch returned their gazes to the game, muttering things under their breaths that went along the lines of "such blasphemy in my house" and "hobbit's batshit crazy."

Kurt merely snickered, and leaned back, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder. "You know, if you keep creating awkward, violent tensions, I could get used to football."

"Thanks, mock my pain and fear."

"Every chance I get." The two kissed rather passionately, only to be interrupted by the screams of Kurt's father and stepbrother—apparently, the Buckeyes had just intercepted the ball.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Boys."

* * *

><p>So, shout-out to Horsegahl for the boats prompt. I know I kind of deviated away from that prompt, but I've never been good with staying on point.<p>

Okay, so yesterday was one of the best days I've ever had. It started out with my waking up to my POTTERMORE EMAIL and my STARKID SUNGLASSES! So now I can chill out in the Ravenclaw common room with my maple, ten-and-three-quarter-inches, unyielding wand wearing purple shades like DCriss. I also went on a fantabulously fun trip with my youth group, and spent a while watching the Starkid Charity Rockout 2011 on UStream. All in all, one of the best Saturdays I've had in a while.

I've FINALLY finished watching season two of Glee, so now I am UBER-PUMPED for season three!

And I've only procrastinated for a day and a half on the mountain of homework that I have, so I better go now.

Love you guys!

Review!


	30. Soar Together

**Soar Together**

A light breeze tickled the long grass behind the Hudson-Hummel home. The warm air brushed through branches of trees, tousled the boys' hair, and flipped the shiny pages of their latest issue of _Vogue_. (One boy was particularly incensed by this; his hair was perfect just a moment ago, and nature had some nerve treating his _Vogue _so roughly.) The forest green cushion of the deck lounger they shared shivered slightly as the wind increased in speed. The pages of the thick magazine quickly became more and more impossible to manage. Fallen leaves danced through the air as the boys' hair whipped into their faces.

"Gah!" Kurt exclaimed, slamming _Vogue _shut. "This is ridiculous! Where did this wind come from?"

Beside him, Blaine shrugged. "Maybe a storm is coming." But when he glanced upward, only a handful of puffy white clouds glided across the dazzling blue expanse. "Whatever. Let's go inside and finish going through this. I think I saw some new Marc Jacobs material when the wind blew the pages around."

Kurt opened his mouth to agree, and then froze. An idea struck him. "No."

"Good, let's—wait, what?" Blaine blinked in surprise. "Did Kurt Hummel just say no to more _Vogue _time? This wind must be the first sign of the apocalypse, because this is definitely number two."

Kurt stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. "No, _Vogue _isn't going anywhere, but this breeze might, so we have to hurry." He untangled himself from the comfortable embrace the two had stretched out into, and then turned and disappeared into the house, leaving a confused yet curious Blaine wondering once more what ingenious plot his nutty boyfriend had concocted.

He followed said boyfriend through the sliding glass door, setting the magazine down on the counter. He heard a loud thumping and rustling from the basement. He descended into the lowest level of the house, discovering Kurt half-buried in a box, digging madly through its contents. Blaine allowed himself a long, lustful look at his boyfriend's impressive, tight-jean-clad rear before he spoke. "Kurt, what're you looking for?"

After a moment, Kurt sprang up. "These!" He spun around, holding two large, colorful diamonds in his hands.

"Kites?"

Kurt's face lit up with excitement. "Yeah! My mother and I used to fly kites with each other every time the wind picked up." His smile faltered. "If you think it's dumb, we don't have to..."

"No!" Grinning broadly, Blaine took one of the kites, a hot pink one with a purple heart in the middle, from Kurt and interlocked their free hands. "This is a _brilliant _idea. Let's go."

The pair climbed up the stairs and passed through the living room, waving at Finn, who was too busy cursing at Puck through his Xbox headset to notice. They moved outside and found gratefully that the wind had gotten stronger. Ignoring his crazily mussed hair, Kurt dashed into the middle of the yard, yanking at the knotted string. Blaine quickly followed suit. Within a few minutes, Kurt's green-and-pink striped kite was soaring gracefully through the air, its tail of matching streamers whipping about in a frenzy, and Blaine's own kite was crashing to the ground for the third time.

"Gah!" the curly-headed boy shouted. "Why is this so hard? And how did you just get that up so fast, Kurt?"

Kurt laughed and looked over at his frustrated boyfriend. "Calm down, you big baby." He reeled in his own flyer and set it on the ground. Then he walked over to Blaine, standing behind him. "Okay, you put your hands...here." Wrapping his arms around Blaine, he moved the shorter boy's hands until they were positioned correctly. His breath tickled Blaine's ear. "Okay, now, I'll toss this into the air..." With a flick of his wrist, he deftly flung the hot pink diamond into the sky. "Now you move your body like this..." Using his arms and hips to guide Blaine, Kurt helped his boyfriend maneuver the kite so it stayed airborne.

"Hey...I'm doing it!" Blaine yelped elatedly. When Kurt started to pull away, he frowned. "Where are you going?"

Kurt chuckled. "I have my own kite to fly. You've gotten the hang of this. You'll do fine."

"No." With a grin, Blaine tucked his elbows into his sides, locking Kurt's arms into place. "I think I might need some more instruction."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. He leaned forward again, hugging Blaine tightly about the middle and resting his head on the shorter boy's shoulder. As the hot pink kite soared higher into the air, Kurt would place an occasional kiss on his boyfriend's neck.

* * *

><p>I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO sorry that's it's taken me a week to update! I got grounded off of both my computer and my iPod (the reason for which is neither here nor there), so I couldn't type anything up. I DID, however, write six or seven more chapters, so I will be uploading all of them today. This is why I haven't responded to any of your reviews or PMs in the last week. It is most DEFINITELY not because I'm ignoring you-honestly, I love talking with you guys more than I do actual people in my life. You guys are the main reason I was dying to get the computer back-for a whole week, I had no one to talk to.<p>

I feel like someone gave me the prompt for this chapter, flying kites, but if they did, I failed to write it down in my ideas note on my iPod, so...sorry! Message me if you (honestly) gave me this idea, and I'll give you a shout-out at the end of whatever chapter I read it by.

I CAN give a virtual bear hug to LunaGleek14, however, for getting the Starkid reference in "The Wager" (University of Michigan). In all honesty, I didn't even mean for that to be a reference. It was kind of obvious, and I meant it to be. But LG14 was the only one to say anything about it, so...yeah.

So...school sucks. Big time. Here's the breakdown of my day: eight hours of school, seven hours of homework, six hours of sleep. That's, like, twenty-one hours. The other three I spend trying to remember my own name. I've walked into class crying from pure fatigue the other day, and the third week of school hasn't even started yet. I am a moron. I've been forced to do the majority of my writing during the twenty-five-minute bus ride to and from school every day. So sorry if, after today, I don't update again for another week. Finding free time to breathe is impossible these days.

Okay, so in my head, this was going to be a ridiculously long A/N, but...it's not (well, not for me). So...I'm probably forgetting to tell you guys something. But I'll have more A/Ns soon, so if I remember I'll tell you there.

Oh! I remember one thing! As you all are probably painfully aware, the third season of Glee begins in twenty-something days. (Or is it less than that at this point? I honestly don't know.) I'd like your opinion as to the fate of this series once the shows resumes. Should I continue? Should I stop when their school starts? Should I incorporate any information we're given about their summer into a chapter? What do you think I should do? Seriously, if you were going to write a review about anything, forget the chapter and talk about this. I need your ideas, because right now I'm clueless!

Thanks!


	31. Fight or Flight

**Fight or Flight**

Two boys slouched on an unkempt bed, eyes glued on the moderately-sized television screen mounted on the wall. In their hands lay one video game controller each, the poor hunks of plastic being pounded mercilessly by angry thumbs. From the few speakers placed around the room, the slightly disturbing yet wholly familiar sounds of machine guns and death reverberated off of the poster-laden walls, making the stellar graphics on the screen feel that much more realistic.

The taller boy poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration; his opponent was thoroughly dominating him, and that was unacceptable. The other boy, however, was not so enraptured by the video game, considering it was painfully easy to master, so he managed to hear the sound of the front door slamming shut and, a few moments later, quick, aggravated footfalls upon the stairs. A body stalked right past the half-open door and into another room, also loudly whipping the door closed behind him.

"Hey Finn."

The boy in question, who hadn't blinked in an unhealthy amount of time, grunted in reply.

"Where did you say Kurt went?"

Sighing, Finn paused the video game. "He just ran to Mrs. Albain's a little ways up the street. Her daughter is sick, and for some reason when Kurt sings for her she'll take her medicine and do whatever else he wants her to do. Don't worry, dude, he'll be home soon. Let's just play the game."

"He _is _home, Finn!" Blaine rolled his eyes in exasperation. "He also seems pretty pissed. What do you think might have happened?"

Finn shrugged, turning back to the television. Blaine stood up and, ignoring Finn's protests, walked to the door down the hall.

He knocked. "Kurt?" Silence. "Kurt, it's Blaine. Can I come in?" He heard a quiet huff of "Fine," so he entered.

The boy lay curled up on his bed, fully clothed, clutching a pillow about the middle and facing the opposite wall. Though his face was obscured, light sniffles were audible from the bed. His messenger bag and car keys crowded the doorway, as though they had been flung upon the floor carelessly.

Blaine stepped slowly into the room, sure to close the door behind him. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's tense frame.

"Hey you," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong."

Blaine laughed humorlessly. "Don't you lie to me, Kurt Hummel. What's going on?"

Kurt ripped himself out of Blaine's embrace and began pacing next to the bed. "What do you think is going on? It's what's always going on!"

Sitting up, Blaine grimaced. "Hecklers?"

"Hecklers," Kurt scoffed. "You make it sound so trivial! It's _worse _than that, Blaine!" He paused, biting his lip. "Azimio."

Blaine bolted upright, quickly crossing over to Kurt. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

Kurt nodded. "I'm fine, Blaine."

Blaine refused to leave it there. "Tell me what happened."

Kurt sighed.

_He skipped lightly down the street, whistling. After singing Lizzy Albain to sleep, "Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)," his favorite Billy Joel song,_ _was stuck on repeat in his head. He was okay with that, though, for he was having a good night; he just spent quality time with his favorite eight-year-old doing what the pair loved most—singing—and his beautiful boyfriend was waiting for him at home for some serious cuddling. That last thought really made him grin. He could imagine himself in a few years' time, coming back to a tastefully decorated apartment after a hard day of classes at NYU's School of Fashion, only to be greeted by a heavy kiss and a warm embrace from his...boyfriend? Fiancé? Daresay..._husband_?_

_A harsh voice ripped him from his daydream. "Yo, homo explosion!" Kurt froze, instantly petrified. "What 'choo so happy for? You just have faggoty sex or something? I can't imagine what anyone would want _you _for, dude or chick, so I doubt it."_

_Kurt refused to turn around. Instead, he kept walking as though he had never heard the voice behind him, albeit faster. A large hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. _

_Azimio's face leaned in far too close to Kurt's own for comfort. "Are you _ignoring _me, fag?"_

"_Oh, I'm sorry," Kurt retorted stupidly. "I wasn't aware that it was socially unacceptable to not respond to my own tormentor."_

_Azimio shoved him away, and he stumbled. "You listen to me, fairy: you're lucky a good number of cops live in this neighborhood—otherwise I'd be pounding your ugly face in right now."_

_That should have relieved Kurt's anxiety, but his heart raced on. Not waiting for the jock to change his mind, Kurt whipped around and ran, the calls of "I'll get you later, fag!" echoing in his ears._

Blaine's heart broke as he listened to Kurt's story, wishing desperately to erase the tears welling up in the glasz eyes he gazed into. "Baby, come here." He wrapped the shaking boy up in his arms. "You'll be okay. I won't let him touch you. _We _won't let him—not me, not Finn, not Burt, not Puck, not any of the New Directions, not the Warblers. _We will protect you._"

"I ran, Blaine," Kurt whispered. "I ran and I let him beat me. I am such a coward. I can't believe I ran again."

Blaine pulled back, staring intently into Kurt's tear- and shame-filled eyes. "Kurt, running is not always a bad thing. It may very well have saved your life tonight. You're strong, Kurt—you're the strongest person I've ever met—but Azimio can _actually _kill you. Running is okay."

"I feel like a coward." Kurt's regret was quickly turning into anger. "Why? Why can't I ever stand up for myself? Every time I do, someone kisses me, or slushies me, or shoves me into a locker. I can't take it anymore! I need to make a better stand. I can't keep running like you did."

The silence that crashed over them was painful. Blaine's face mirrored that of a kicked puppy. Kurt clapped a hand over his mouth in horror—what had he just _said_?

"Blaine..." Kurt began, but the other boy cut him off in a whisper.

"You weren't there, Kurt. You didn't go through what I went through. Your experience with Karofsky and Azimio and the football team was horrible, there's no denying that. But Kurt...you didn't get jumped by three guys twice your size. You didn't watch the only person who's ever understood you bleed out on the pavement. You didn't black out after a few bashes to the head with a baseball bat. You didn't wake up in an alley, praying that you could reach your cell phone. You didn't spend a week and a half in a hospital. You didn't have to watch your father try to feel bad for you, even though you could see in his eyes that he thought you deserved it. You didn't receive dozens of anonymous phone calls, all of them calling you worthless or disgusting or wrong or on someone's death list. You didn't have to try to function on two or three hours of sleep because crippling nightmares and panic attacks kept you awake at night. You didn't have to watch the only other person like you retreat back into the closet out of fear. I _ran_, not because I was afraid of dying, but because I wasn't really living. If you can't appreciate that..." He simply shook his head.

Kurt was crying freely by the end, his knees wobbly from shame and sorrow. He reached a hand out toward Blaine, but the shell-shocked boy jumped away from the touch.

"I've got to go." Blaine turned and dashed from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door, leaving a distraught Kurt falling apart silently in his bedroom.

* * *

><p>Blaine walked around the neighborhood, fuming. Did Kurt honestly believe that he was a coward? Was he ashamed of him? How long had he thought this? Did he regret going to Dalton? Doubt and misery cluttered his confused mind as he wandered. He wanted to drive, to just climb in his Chevy and speed off—to run.<p>

He stopped in his tracks. What did he always run? Why couldn't he _ever _stand up for himself? Why didn't he have courage?

Why couldn't he be more like Kurt?

That thought did it. He collapsed on the sidewalk, burying his face in him palms. The black night swallowed him whole as he sobbed out his doubt, his shame, his fear, his confusion. He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, emptying his soul into the darkness; the tears never seemed to end.

A high-pitched voice interrupted his breakdown. "_Blaine_!"

Blaine looked up. A figure raced toward him, babbling a mile a minute. "Oh my Gaga, Blaine, don't do that to us! We've been looking for you forever! Did you forget that Azimio is out here? What if he had found you, Blaine? What if he had killed you? And you left your phone in Finn's room—it took us _ages_ to figure out why you wouldn't answer—we even had Wes call you!" Kurt fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck, the stream of words still flowing relentlessly. "We all split up, and we've been combing the neighborhood. We were just about to call the police, because we knew you hadn't driven off, your car's still in the driveway—what if you'd been beaten or kidnapped or _killed_? I would've _died_, Blaine, what would I do without you? Gaga, Blaine, I'm _so sorry_ for what I said. I didn't mean it—you are an amazing person, and I love you so much. I can't believe I said that—to you of all people! I mean—"

"Why not?" Blaine murmured, effectively ending Kurt's ramble. "It's not like what you said wasn't true. I ran, Kurt. I did not have courage. I gave up on fighting for myself. I'm a coward."

"No." Kurt untangled himself and placed one hand on either side of Blaine's face, leaning forward until their foreheads met. "You had a different kind of courage, Blaine. You had the courage to shelve your pride and do the less heroic thing—you protected yourself. You were brave enough to recognize a dangerous, losing battle and wash your hands of it. I admire you, Blaine. I could only find the strength to return to McKinley because I had something you never did: an army behind me. For your situation, and your options...you were more courageous than I've ever been." With that, Kurt closed the distance between their lips.

All the negativity vanished as Blaine leaned into the kiss, never loving his boyfriend more than in that moment. After an eternity they broke apart, laughing softly to each other.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt."

"I'm so sorry for what I said."

"I know you are. We're good, Kurt. I promise."

Kurt lifted himself off the ground, dragging Blaine with him. The two began to walk arm-in-arm toward the Hudson-Hummel home, Kurt shooting off a quick text to his father, stepbrother, and stepmother concerning his success in finding Blaine. Blaine rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. Everything was as it should be once more.

* * *

><p>YAY! ANGST! Sorry, I was feeling particularly dramatic this week (probably something to do with being grounded and only six hours of sleep each night). So...POOR BLAINERS!<p>

So INFINITE shout-out to loveconquers1 on this one. This was a total collaborative effort between her and I, and she deserves major props for this. I hope I did your brilliant ideas justice, girl. I know that this was one of the most interesting chapters to write, and it, like "His Father" brought tears to my eyes. It's probably just my obsession with torturing Blaine. That boy is just a big ol' pile of angst just BEGGING to be dove into. (I think that was a grammatical nightmare.)

Okay, so remember how I said at the end of last chapter that I was going to have all of my new chapters uploaded today? Yeah, well...I lied. The Internet proves to be very distracting. I spent fours hours reading CP Coulter's "Dalton" today. (May I just say that I felt completely inferior after reading thirteen chapters of that FanFic? Girl-or dude-has some serious talent.) And now I'm off to clean my room (at quarter to nine at night), because if I don't HAZMAT will actually swoop in and burn it to the ground. I think the CDC may find some biochemical pathogens in here that could launch World War Three. So I'll try to finish tomorrow. (No promises, though; even though it's Labor Day, I still have seven or so hours of homework to do.)

I love you guys! Don't forget that!


	32. Explosions in the Night

**Explosions in the Night**

The deafening booms shook the metal of the car. Sizzles and cracks and pops electrified the black night air. A rainbow of flames lit up the world around them. A few hundred yards in front of the vehicle, a rather large gathering of people—young, old, male, female, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, tall, short, sitting, standing—gazed up in awe at the show in the sky. A few rows of parked cars loomed closer than this crowd, and their own stood far in the back.

The two stretched out atop the roof of the black Escalade, holding hands and occasionally pointing appreciatively at a particularly impressive explosion. No one knew they were there; most of the observers had migrated to the middle of the field, and those who chose to view the show from their vehicles could not see them where they lay. Of course, that suited them just fine, for they could exchange a random kiss without fear of ignorance and hatred.

A beautiful bottle green firework exploded right about their heads. "Oh, that was gorgeous!" Kurt sighed.

Blaine squeezed the hand he held. "Agreed. I'm so glad you suggested we come to this. It's been a long time since I've seen a firework show."

With a sly smile, Kurt pulled a package from the bag lying next to him. "Would you care for a delicious Red Vine?"

Blaine's head shot up in excitement. "Absolutely!" With a smirk mirroring Kurt's, he, too, retrieved a parcel from beside him. "How about a Twizzler, too?"

Kurt seemed dazzled. "You are so perfect."

As they ate their candy, more sounds and lights filled the night. After a long while, Blaine began to hum.

"No."

Blaine stopped humming. "What?"

"If you get another Katy Perry song stuck in my head, I will leave you."

Blaine's triangular eyebrows furrowed. "First, what do you mean by another?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Last Friday? You sang 'T.G.I.F. (Last Friday Night)' for three hours straight. I can't _stand _that song."

"What?" Blaine gasped, offended. "But Darren Criss is in the music video!"

"I _know _that. Doesn't change the fact that it's an obnoxious song."

Choosing to ignore the blasphemy of such a statement, Blaine continued. "Second, my girl crush on Katy shall not be silenced!" He began to hum "Firework" again, this time more loudly.

"I know how to shut you up," Kurt growled. He rolled onto his side and, grabbing his boyfriend's face, locked their lips together.

That _did _effectively end the humming.

They realized later how cliché the kiss was: lying together on a warm summer night, tangled up in each other passionately as fireworks exploded overhead. To complete the scene, the moment they pulled apart, a hot pink heart sizzled above them.

"What a wonderful summer this is shaping up to be, Mr. Hummel," Blaine murmured.

"Agreed."

* * *

><p>So, short one this time. I could've made it longer, but I felt that short and sweet fit the mood. I have the lovely and amazing RanebowsKlaineRainandGondolas to thank for the firework prompt. I hope I did you justice.<p>

Once more, I must offer my most sincere and humble apologies for the delay in updating this story. My schedule, as I have reiterated repeatedly, is mother-flippin' INSANE, and I've had little time to write. Not only that, but when I _do _write, I like to work on the Blurt drama I've recently started. (Yes, that is a shameless plug, and no, it's not online yet. I'm going to wait and see if this plot line is even feasible before I subject you all to the horror of my awful story.) But fear not, dear readers! I have under no circumstances forgotten this life-changing series that I love so much. (It's life-changing for me, not you. I absolutely, one hundred percent do NOT expect anyone else's life to be remotely impacted by this.)

Never underestimate the power of a life-or-death game of tag.

That is all.


	33. Animals

**Animals**

They milled about, smiling at the excited children who dashed about from exhibit to exhibit, their haggard-looking parents trying unsuccessfully to rein them in. Screeches, howls, and rumbles mixed with the pop music that drifted from the speakers hidden in fake rocks. Sparrows hopped around on the hot pavement, picking at remnants of French fries, funnel cakes, and ice cream cones. The glaring sun reflected off the glass enclosures. The putrid scent of rotting food and animal waste filled the air.

The pair approached a rather large cage with a wide, rolling expanse of lush green grass within the chain link. A small pond of crystal blue water bubbled on the opposite side. Lapping up mouthfuls of the water was a majestic Bengal tiger. His huge head ducked down, his whiskers tickling the surface. Behind him, closer to the observing boys, two more lounged in the sun, one bright orange like the first, the other snowy white. Both seemed to be fast asleep.

Kurt sighed. "I feel so bad for them, locked up in this cage, unable to run free..."

Squeezing his hand, Blaine replied, "I don't know. They have food, water, shade, a habitat similar to their natural one, companionship, safety from predators..."

"Yeah, but they don't _belong _here," Kurt argued.

Blaine inspected the sign attached to the fencing. "Look, Kurt. This says that all three were bred in captivity. They're used to this place."

"That makes it worse! They don't know what they're missing! They're stuck in this small, enclosed space, not knowing that there's this huge, beautiful place out there, with others like them, and room for freedom and happiness and love!"

Suddenly realizing what Kurt was so upset over, Blaine reached down and grabbed the distraught boy's hand. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, he whispered into Kurt's ear, "We are getting out of here, Kurt. Lima, Ohio, cannot contain the likes of you for very long. We're going to make it to New York, where we can be free together, and where, if you'll let me, I will marry you someday." Then he bestowed a brief, tender kiss upon Kurt's cheek.

Blushing, Kurt sighed again. "They are beautiful, aren't they?"

Blaine, still gazing at Kurt, murmured, "They really are."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, the two walked hand-in-hand into the large, refrigerated building that housed the penguins. They approached the wall of glass that separated them from a large room resembling a tundra. Twenty-five or so Emperor and Rockhopper penguins dove into a deep pool of water, slid about on the ice, and pecked at piles of slimy, gray fish. A few waddled around adorably, and the two boys "awwed" in appreciation.<p>

A woman in tan trousers and a parka entered the exhibit through a door hidden in the white wall, carrying a large bucket. Immediately, the majority of the penguins scuttled over to her, squawking and yelping from hunger. Two in a corner, however, did not move; they continued to nuzzle each other's necks, cuddling close together.

The woman with the fish counted the birds crowding around her, and she noticed the number was too low. She looked over the mass of feathers, spotting the two in the corner. With a smile, she switched on the headset attached to her ear. "Hey guys." Her voice echoed through the loudspeaker in the observing room. "See those two over there? Those are Jasper and Franklin, our resident lovebirds. It's not wholly uncommon for male Emperor penguins to mate for life."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a loaded glance, and then burst out laughing. The dozen or so others in the room stared at them, some confused, some angry.

"See!" Kurt chuckled. "Penguins get it! Why are these birds so much smarter than humans?"

Blaine shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Love like ours is both rare and precious. No one is going to take that away from us."

The boyfriends linked arms and watched as Jasper and Franklin cuddled together, keeping each other warm in a cold world.

* * *

><p>Hm...this one is short too. I'm not up to my usual standard, guys. I'm sorry...<p>

Oh, crap. I have something else to apologize for. Someone gave me this prompt, and (again) I forgot to write down. My bad! PM me and I'll give you your shout-out.

Shout-out to BananaGleek, who gave me the kite prompt from chapter thirty. I seem to be having major issues with my memory lately...which does not bode well for the three tests I have rapidly approaching...

SO, my friend Emma (HI EMMA IF YOU'RE READING THIS!) played a volleyball game today, and I semi-surprised her by showing up with a sign. What did this sign say, you ask? Why, "EMMA [INSERT EMMA'S LAST NAME HERE BECAUSE I'M NOT TELLING YOU WHAT IT IS IN CASE YOU'RE A STALKER] IS TOTALLY AWESOME," of course! I also added a picture of Joey Richter pointing at the camera from AVPM, Lauren Lopez's totally awesome hands, Chris Colfer's Glee 'L' pose, Darren's sunglasses, and a volleyball. (The latter was an afterthought; I figured that since it WAS a volleyball game, I should reference that somewhere on the poster.) I embarrassed the hell out of her. It was epic.

Making a fool out of both yourself and your friends is okay as long as it comes from a place of caring.

I'll upload again soon, my red-hot titanium babies with diamond teeth! I promise! (-ish.)


	34. Another Interrupted Movie

**Another Interrupted Movie**

As the night descended upon Lima, the two boys pulled up into a field, filling in a spot in the third row of parked cars. A thousand yards in front of them, a tall, wide, white screen hung from the side of a spacious red barn. Beyond that, a black forest loomed toward them, birds of the night swooping down upon the tall grass and snatching up poor creatures for their breakfasts.

The boys chatted amiably, hands clasped on top of the center console as four or five more rows of vehicles pulled in behind their Escalade. When the sun had completely said goodnight, a blinding light struck the screen, suddenly illuminating the world. After a minute or so, a crackling movie began.

"_The Wizard of Oz_," Kurt breathed. "Do you know how long it's been since I saw this movie?"

Blaine nodded in agreement. "I think I was...six. Maybe seven. Either way, it's been a while."

The two linked arms and huddled close in excitement, viewing the film through the center of the windshield. By the time Dorothy set off on the yellow brick road, however, they decided that they just weren't close enough.

"Do you want to move to the back?" Blaine murmured in Kurt's ear, causing the other boy to inexplicably blush and squeak. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, like, pressure you or anything..."

"No!" Kurt whispered. He swallowed to find his voice. "No, that's honestly a great idea. I'm just being silly."

Blaine smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. Then he clambered from the passenger seat over the console, falling roughly into the back. Straightening himself quickly, he reached out his hands to help Kurt join him. As he kept Kurt steady, his hands brushed the taller boy's hips, and both blushed. In a minute, both were settled, cuddling together to watch the Tin Man join Dorothy and the Scarecrow on their journey.

They made it to the completion of the quartet before they couldn't take it anymore. Without a catalyst the two seized each other's faces, lips locking in a passionate frenzy. Hands explored hair, necks, shoulders, back, waists as tongues traced along cheeks, earlobes, lips. Their breaths came hot and heavy as their hearts tripped in their chests. Before either knew it, Kurt sat on Blaine's lap, knees straddling his hips. They moved together, feeling every inch of their burning skin against each other.

When Kurt bit down animally on the crook of Blaine's neck, the shorter boy had to intervene. "Kurt!" he gasped, holding a firm grip on his boyfriend's hips. "Kurt! We have to slow down!"

Kurt pulled back. His face was an odd mixture of confusion, hurt, and worry. "What do you mean?"

Trying to collect his thoughts, Blaine shifted Kurt so that the two sat side-by-side, but still entangled. "Kurt, I just...I don't know."

Kurt panicked. What did _that _mean?

The curly-haired boy bit his lip, closing his eyes in concentration. After a few moments, Kurt's heart sank below his stomach. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

Blaine didn't move. His lack of a response frightened Kurt even more. He stared at Blaine's face, dreading its next expression.

A minute later, Blaine lost it. He started laughing so hard that his face flushed and tears poured from his eyes. He doubled over, gasping for air.

Kurt scowled, annoyed. "Blaine Anderson, what in the name of Gaga is wrong with you?"

Blaine took a long moment to calm himself down. Then he grinned at his boyfriend's grimace. "Kurt," he choked. "Baby, no. I am _never _breaking up with you. Are you serious? After everything we've done, everything we've been through, everything we _will _do? How can I just walk away from that?"

Kurt didn't look placated. "Then why'd you stop...us? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Blaine insisted. "It's just...things went a little far. Not that I minded! I just...want to take things...physically, I mean...slow."

"Oh." Kurt looked ashamed. "I'm sorry. Something about you just makes me...go a little crazy."

Blaine smiled. "Well, can't argue with that logic." He leaned in to kiss Kurt. This kiss had none of the urgency or fire that their previous make-out session had. But it meant more. Love was not mixed with lust this time. It was perfect. When it ended, both were grinning.

"Come here." Blaine opened his arms, and Kurt snuggled into his chest. When they were comfortable, the curly-haired boy chuckled. "Do you think we'll _ever _get through a movie without interruption?"

Kurt smirked. "I hope not."

* * *

><p>Three chapters in one night, guys! Are you proud of me? No? Okay then.<p>

If you gave me this prompt, PM me, 'cause I totally forgot to write it down. I'm not sure if anyone did or not; this just doesn't sound like something I'd come up with on my own.

Sorry if you think this one sucks. I was in the mood for Klisses. The story isn't that interesting, though.

Okay, please, please, please, please, PLEASE tell me that I am not the only one who, while watching _The Princess and the Frog_, screamed "MAMA UMBRIDGE!" when Mama Odie said, "Now you listen to yo' momma now!" The Lang Brothers and Brolden TOTALLY ripped Mama Umbridge from TPATF! (Not that I'm complaining or anything; only geniuses can use Disney material so perfectly.) For the record, I think Mama U is so much more BA than Mama O.

I chased a butterfly today.

That is all.


	35. Anonymous

**Anonymous**

He lounged on the deck, his curly hair dancing in the light summer breeze. Both his hazel eyes and his laptop screen were shielded from the glaring sun by a large umbrella. He didn't have a particular purpose for his Internet surfing; he was merely killing time before his boyfriend's Glee Girls' lunch was over. He jumped from website to website, watching videos, reading articles, commenting on funny pictures. After a while he decided to skip over to Facebook. Scrolling through his News Feed, he "awwed" at a picture of his oldest cousin's new baby girl and groaned at Puck's appalling grammar. Eventually he clicked on his boyfriend's profile and began reading his Wall.

**Kurt Hummel  
><strong>Note to self: never let **Tina Cohen-Chang **eat ICEEs.

**Kurt Hummel  
><strong>Going out with the girls!

**Kurt Hummel  
>Mercedes Jones <strong>just asked me if I was free—no, I TOTALLY had plans. Doing nothing by myself can never be compromised.

He laughed. The stuff that diva came out with sometimes...it really was no wonder he was so in love with him.

He kept reading, and then froze. His jaw dropped. His heart sank.

"Son of a _bitch_," he growled. He slammed his laptop shut and sprung up from the wooden floor. Racing into his house, he snatched his keys off their hook, darting for the car.

* * *

><p>He banged on the door fiercely, trembling and clutching his computer close to his chest. Within a few moments, a pleasant, kind-faced brunette opened it.<p>

"Yes, who—well hello, Blaine!" The woman smiled down at him. Her mildly surprised grin quickly morphed into a worried frown as she took in the boy before her. His hair was a mess and his eyes dashed about wildly, as if frantically searching for somewhere to run or something to hold on to. His whole body shook. "Blaine, sweetie, what's the matter?"

Blaine bit his lip for a few seconds, and then inexplicably burst into tears. He flung himself upon Carole, who immediately wrapped her arms around him. Quietly shushing him in his ear, Carole ushered the crying boy over to the couch.

"Hey, Car, are we out of—Blaine?" Burt stopped in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a nearly-empty carton of orange juice in his hands. "What happened? Is Kurt alright?"

Shaking his head, Blaine swallowed back the sobs that racked his small frame. Beside him, Carole rubbed tiny, soothing circles on his back. She reached over and gently tugged the laptop from the boy's embrace. "Do you need to show us something on here?" When Blaine nodded, she lifted the lid. The blue lock screen appeared, and Blaine, after finally composing himself, bent down and typed in his password.

There it was. Carole clapped a hand over her mouth, and Burt, who had seated himself in the chair near the couch, swore loudly.

"This is _bullshit_!" He leapt to his feet and began pacing. "Things were just starting to get better, and now—"

"No, 'Cedes, I did _not _in fact know that guy was gay when I sent you over to talk to him. Just because _I'm _gay doesn't mean I have perfect gaydar." Kurt and Mercedes breezed into the room, continuing a discussion the two had started earlier. "I mean, Gaga, I thought Sam was gay for the longest time and I had the hots for _Finn _of all people. I am _not _an expert on all things gay." He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the heavy tension in the room. "What's going...Blaine?" He finally spotted his boyfriend on the couch. His heart sank when he saw the hazel eyes rimmed in red. "Oh God, what happened?"

Mercedes moved first. "Prep boy, what's the matter?" She stood behind the sofa, reading the computer screen. "Oh, _hell _to the no!"

Kurt and Blaine remained motionless. Glasz poured into hazel as the two communicated silently.

_What's wrong?_

_It's bad, Kurt._

_How bad?_

_The worst yet._

_Are you okay?_

_...No._

Kurt stepped cautiously over to the rest of the group, four pairs of eyes watching his every move. He stood beside Mercedes and read the words written on his Facebook Wall.

**The Punisher  
><strong>ALL FAGGOTS WILL BURN IN HELL! YOU WILL BE THE FIRST TO DIE!

_You will be the first to die._

Nobody breathed. Everybody waited for Kurt to react. When he did, it wasn't in the way they expected: Kurt shrugged and reached down, closing the laptop. "And here I was worrying that you'd found the performance of 'Push It.'"

"Kurt," Burt began, but Blaine cut him off.

"Kurt, it's on mine, too."

Kurt's smile faltered, but he didn't look worried. "Look, guys, this sucks, but it doesn't matter. I've had my life threatened before, and I will again. I can't let it get to me every time."

Blaine stood to face Kurt. "This is more serious, Kurt. We can't put a face to this. We can't watch out for this. This isn't some stupid threat from some stupid jock! This is _bigger _than that!"

If the situation wasn't so serious, Kurt's expression would have been annoyed. As it was, his face was an odd mixture of _bitch, please _and sympathy. "I don't know. I guess that after...everything, I can't really get worked up over someone who didn't have the courage to say this to my face."

"Kurt—"

"Boo—"

"Sweetie—"

Burt, Mercedes, and Carole were cut off by Kurt. "No. First, Dad, you have to sit down and _calm down _before you have another heart attack. 'Cedes, I know what you're going to say, and don't. Carole, thank you for your concern. Really, it means a lot. But I'm choosing to ignore this." Each face in the room was some shade of angry—except one.

Blaine walked around to Kurt and grabbed his hand. "He's right. We've both suffered worse in the past, and we'll both suffer worse in the future. We keep each other strong. That's what matters."

Carole and Mercedes looked resigned, but Burt collapsed in his chair, burying his face in his hands. "I will never get used to this."

Carole reached over and squeezed her husband's knee reassuringly. "That's not what they're saying, sweetheart. No one ever gets used to this. But they've decided how they're going to handle it, and I have to commend them for their maturity and courage."

Kurt and Blaine grinned at each other, pride and love and caution spilling from their eyes. Mercedes, on the other hand, spun around and huffed, marching toward the door. "'Bye, boo," she called over her shoulder. "You may be content to let this rest, but I am not. Glee Club _will _find out about this, and I mean _all _of Glee Club. Finn, Puck, Santana—all the scary people. We've got your backs, white boys." Then she disappeared from the house.

Kurt shrugged. "Should've seen that coming."

Blaine gently pulled Kurt from the room, taking them both out of view. "We _will _have to be more careful, you know that, right?"

Kurt nodded. "I know."

Blaine took both of Kurt's hands in his own. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They kissed.

* * *

><p>One, delayed shout-out to RanebowsKlainTrainandGondolas for prompting chapter thirty-four! I'm going to to my darnedest to not forget anymore prompters-no promises though.<p>

Two, we're going to pretend for the time being that random people can post on other people's Facebook Walls, even though in reality you have to be friends with that person to do so. But, hey, who cares about reality when you have FANFICTION!

Three, I am running seriously low on prompts, so if you have anything you'd like me to write about, please, please, please, PLEASE tell me! I seriously need it.

Four, I'm probably not going to update again until next weekend, so these four chapters that I've done this weekend will have to hold you over.

Five, as most of you know-certainly those who live in America-today is the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attack that took place on September 11, 2001. Thousands of innocents lives were lost that day, and an entire country was shaken to its core. I myself lived in New York at the time, and though I was only six years old those memories will never leave me. Whether you're American or English or German or any other nationality, whether you're Christian or Jewish or Muslim or any other religion, I ask you to humbly take a moment to remember the lives of those who went to work one day and never came back, those who went into burning buildings and stayed there, those who saved the White House by crashing their hijacked plane into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, and those who lost the most important people in their lives to the disease that is terrorism. Remember what it means to be free, what it means to love, and what it means to forgive. Tell your parents you love them. Hug a friend. Say a prayer.

Never forget.

God bless you all.

God bless America.


	36. The Wrong Team

**The Wrong Team**

His mind wandered as he tuned out the light babble of his fellow customers and the sharp hisses of the shiny chrome machines behind the counter. He stood alone, his foot tapping to the beat of the Pink song stuck in his head. The cool air of the coffee shop made him shiver slightly as the air conditioning unit worked overtime to keep the heat of the midsummer day outside, a difficult feat considering the number of times the front door swung open and shut, the tiny bell attached to the frame chiming each time.

When he moved up to third in line, a teenage girl approached him. Brilliant blonde locks fell in ringlets to the small of her back, framing a heart-shaped, tanned face. Blue eyes danced in the sunlight reflected off of the windows, and full lips pouted slightly. An impressive chest, contrasting sharply with a tiny waist and toned legs, was barely concealed in a plain white halter-top. By all accounts, the girl was drop-dead gorgeous.

"Hey there," she purred, leaning sultrily toward him. "What's your name?"

His triangular eyebrows furrowed in uncomfortable confusion. "I'm Blaine." Unsure of what to do, he nervously stretched out his hand.

The girl was momentarily surprised by the gesture, but she quickly recovered her confident smirk and shook his hand. "I'm Cassidy. So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this all by yourself?"

"Actually—" Blaine began, but Cassidy cut him off.

"Listen. You're hot. I'm hot." She followed him as he stumbled to the counter to place his order. "We should do something about that." She winked at him suggestively.

"I—no—we—you—there's—see—" Blaine was thoroughly flustered. He'd been hit on by girls before, but never by ones so forceful or overt. He wanted to remain proper and dapper while letting her down gently, but Cassidy didn't seem like the kind of girl to take no for an answer. Blaine caught the eye of Alison, the fiery ginger barista he'd befriended during his many trips to the Lima Bean. She was stifling crippling giggles as she watched the awkward scene play out before her.

Cassidy did not notice this as her piercing blue eyes were trained Blaine's red face. "Aw, that's cute. You're nervous. I was kind of hoping for a player, but I can work with this."

"No—I—he—" As Blaine continued to flounder, another person walked up to the group—the exact person he needed at the moment.

"Who's this?" Cassidy affixed her gaze upon Kurt, who automatically wound his fingers through Blaine's when he arrived.

The newcomer looked both startled and miffed. "I could ask you the same question."

Cassidy took note of Kurt's voice and the way that the two boys instinctively gravitated toward each other. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute..."

"Gah!" Alison groaned in exasperation. "Yes, blondie, they're gay! You just came on to a gay guy—a taken one at that. Now can you let me take their order or would you like to continue to make fool of yourself?"

The three in front of the counter stared. Glaring at Cassidy, who returned the look fiercely, Alison flashed the boys a quick smile.

After a long, tense moment, Cassidy dismissed Alison and rolled her eyes onto Blaine. "If you ever want to give the X-chromosome another try..."

"Been there," Kurt muttered.

"Done that," Blaine breathed.

Cassidy stalked off with a huff. The boyfriends turned to Alison. With only a second's hesitation, the three burst out in laughter.

"I go to the bathroom for a _minute _and you get attacked by the she-wolf," Kurt choked.

Alison had to lean on the counter for support, drying her green eyes on her Lima Bean apron. "Honestly, I don't know who I was more embarrassed for, you or her."

Still scarlet, Blaine tried to fight his giggles. "Seriously, you two, it's not that funny." He flushed darker when their laughter intensified. "I didn't know what to do!"

"Well, you didn't make out with her—I call that progress."

Blaine shoved his sassy boyfriend in the shoulder.

Still chuckling, Alison pushed a medium drip and a nonfat mocha toward the boys. "Honestly, you two are my favorite couple ever. I don't know how I'll survive without your adorableness when you go to New York." She waved Blaine off as he tried to pay. "For your suffering, on the house."

After sticking his tongue out at her momentarily, Blaine thanked the barista and lifted the coffees from the counter. The boys sat at their usual table, Kurt still wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Blaine nudged his boyfriend's knee with his own. "You don't know how lucky you are. You're so forwardly gay, girls don't hound you all the time. I always have to feel like such a bad guy when I tell them they're asking a guy from the wrong team."

Kurt's chuckles silenced. "At least you can hide it from homophobes. I make it so _obvious _for them."

Blaine immediately placed his hand over Kurt's on the tabletop. "Hey, that just makes you stronger. You _never _have to hide who you are—because you are _beautiful_. They don't matter, Kurt. You're too amazing for them to handle."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. "You are so corny, Blaine Anderson."

The other boy shrugged. "I try."

The two sipped their coffee, gazing into each other's eyes and tracing patterns on each other's palms with their fingertips. They were speaking silently with their glances, but neither said anything of consequence—merely sweet nothings. Confused girls like Cassidy and ignorant bullies like Azimio faded from their thoughts; there was little room for that in their minds when phrases like _too adorable for words _and _I seriously love him _kept drifting across them.

During a particularly intense moment, Kurt made the mistake of trying to take a swallow of his coffee. In his lack of concentration, the boy choked on his drink, causing him to cough and sputter. Blaine reactively crossed over to him, patting his back in concern—but he had to fight the flood of snickers that threatened to break free.

Kurt, however, felt his boyfriend shaking, and turned to glare up at him. "I'm glad you found my near-death experience so hilarious, Blaine."

Blaine took his seat again once Kurt was no longer in semi-mortal peril. "Please, that was nowhere _near _death. But if you're going to keep choking on things I might be more wary as to what liquids I give you to swallow." The awkward silence was deafening. It took Blaine a fraction of a moment to realize what he just said. "Oh _God_, that did _not _come out the way I intended _at all_."

It was Kurt's turn to giggle at his boyfriend's silliness again. "Relax, Blaine. I understood what you meant, after deciphering your inadvertent 'that's what she said' language choice."

Blaine considered that for a moment. "No, 'that's what she said' doesn't work. It's most definitely 'that's what he said.'"

Kurt rolled his eyes again. "Okay, if our juvenile conversation is over, let's head out. There's a sale at a few stores in the strip mall downtown, and I don't want all the good stuff to go to the soccer moms on budgets."

"Sure thing." Blaine stood up and linked arms with Kurt. The boys left the Lima Bean, waving goodbye to Alison behind the counter and reveling in the joy of being together.

* * *

><p>AWKWARDNESS ALL AROUND! I hoped you guys liked this-I mean, I updated this DURING THE WEEK, so you had BETTER like it! *glare*<p>

Just kidding. You are totally free to hate it.

But seriously, I hope you don't.

I don't have much to prattle on about tonight. Everything's pretty mellow right now. Actually, like, fifty people I know are in the throes of medical crises, but I'm pretty much just chillin'. Like a villain. Did you know that for a long time I thought 'villain' was spelled 'villian?'" Vill-ee-an. That's how you'd say that one.

I had Tostitos today.


	37. Good News

**Good News**

He tapped his foot anxiously, checking his designer watch frequently. Ideas and speculations whirred around his frantic mind, each more far-fetched than the previous. Occasionally one would spark an image or a thought that would throw his already racing heart into overdrive. Night would be falling in less than an hour, and he knew his boyfriend wanted to talk to him before dark—but about _what_?

_Good news._

What did _that _mean?

From the couch, his father finally spoke up. "Kurt, will you calm down? Jeez, you're going to give me another heart attack."

Kurt paused his foot momentarily. "Not funny, Dad."

Burt sighed, fully ripping his attention away from the baseball game. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I just mean...he said he'd be here. When has he _ever _let you down?"

Collapsing in a chair, Kurt groaned. "_Never. _I'm just nervous. He told me he had good news to tell me. That could be _anything. _Is Marc Jacobs's new line coming out early? Is Patti LuPone touring again? Is Azimio finally in prison?"

"I know you're curious, Kurt—"

"_Curious_? I'm freaking out! I _hate _surprises! Oh Gaga, I can't take the—"

Three energetic raps upon the door interrupted Kurt's nervous breakdown. The diva yelped and lurched for the knob, wrenching the door open.

"_Blaine_!"

The short, curly-haired boy stood grinning on the porch. "Well, hey—" His greeting was cut short by his boyfriend's arms around his neck.

"Hey kid!" Burt called, his eyes glued once more to the television. "You better tell my boy whatever secret you're keeping, because I'm going to have an aneurism if he doesn't chill out soon."

"Still not funny!" Kurt shouted over his shoulder as he dragged Blaine to his car, slamming the door behind him. He pushed Blaine against the driver's side of the Chevy, pressing their lips together fiercely.

"Whoa!" Blaine exclaimed, gently easing Kurt backward. "What's gotten into you?"

Kurt giggled lightly. "Sorry. I've just been _so excited _all day, and I..." He blushed pink.

"Well, you should be excited. The news is...totally awesome."

"Well, what is it?" Kurt frowned when Blaine shook his head.

"Not here. Put this on." Blaine pulled a blindfold from his pocket.

Kurt leapt back. "Are you out of your _mind_, Blaine Anderson? What in the name of _Gaga _would make you think that I would be okay with wearing a _blindfold_?"

"Because you love me?" Blaine's hazel eyes grew wide and his lower lip jutted out in a pout.

Kurt groaned. "One day I will be strong enough to resist that." He snatched the cloth from his boyfriend and tied it around his head.

Laughing, Blaine replied, "No one can ever overcome the puppy eyes! Now, can you see anything?"

"_No_."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Blaine made a peace sign in front of Kurt's face.

"I'll hold up a certain finger if you don't get a move on," Kurt snapped.

"Ooh, sassy." Blaine led Kurt around to the passenger door and helped him into the vehicle. Then he dashed to the other side and hopped in, starting the car. As he drove away, he turned on the radio.

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone.  
>It's not unusual to have fun with anyone."<p>

The boys sang along to the oldie, grinning at the corniness of the lyrics and the music. Within a few minutes, though, Blaine pulled up to his destination. He turned off the car, cutting off the Cee Lo Green song the variety station had switched to. Before Kurt could ask anything, Blaine left the Chevy and opened the passenger door, pulling Kurt outside.

"Can I take this godforsaken thing off now?" the taller boy grumbled.

"No you can't!" Blaine replied in a sing-song voice. He tugged Kurt by both hands. "Okay, now we're coming up on a lot of steps, so be careful. We'll be going down."

"If I die because I'm blind, I will _kill _you, Blaine Anderson."

Choosing the ignore the paradox, Blaine carefully stopped his stumbling boyfriend at the bottom of the concrete steps. "Okay...here we go." Placing a gentle kiss on Kurt's lips, he removed the blindfold.

The pair stood in the courtyard in front of McKinley High School. Candles of all shapes, sizes, and colors resting in glass jars lined the path down the stairs they'd just descended, their light dancing in the quickly darkening sky. A single red rose lay across the bottom step at Kurt's feet. They were blissfully alone, and Kurt was confused.

"Blaine, what is this..." He swallowed nervously. "What's going on?"

Blaine still held onto both of Kurt's hands, which he squeezed gently. "Kurt, the last time we stood here, we said goodbye as you transferred from Dalton to McKinley. Well, now it's my turn."

Kurt's heart stopped. What was he _saying?_

Blaine reached inside his bag, which he had dropped on the ground upon arrival. He extracted a thick manila envelope and handed it to Kurt. The taller boy took it, and by the flickering light of dozens of candles he read the label. _Blaine Anderson._

"What're..." Kurt trailed off when Blaine shook his head.

"Just open it."

Kurt undid the seal and pulled out a packet of papers. He read the heading of the first sheet.

**William McKinley High School  
><strong>**Lima, Ohio  
><strong>**Transfer Application**

_Transfer application._

Kurt was speechless. All he could do was gawk at Blaine, who beamed back. "I'm coming to McKinley!"

The world fell silent for a fraction of a moment. Then suddenly, inexplicably, irrationally, hysterically, Kurt burst into tears, flinging himself upon an astonished Blaine, who wrapped his arms around him.

"Hey, whoa!" Blaine gasped into Kurt's ear. "What's going on? Why're you so upset?"

Kurt began to babble. "I've never heard such incredibly good news in my life, and ever since I transferred back to McKinley I've missed you so much, and I wished and wished you'd come here, but I knew you couldn't, because you deserve an amazing school like Dalton, so you can go wherever you want for college, and you don't have to worry about tuition or competition or anything, and then if you were to come here, you'd be destroyed by Azimio and the football team and the puckheads, and one out kid is bad enough, but an out _couple _will get us killed, and you deserve so much better than this place, and I love you, and you shouldn't leave everything behind for me, I'm not worth something like this, you have to consider yourself, and I've never loved you more than—"

Kurt's hysteria was interrupted by Blaine's lips, which firmly silenced the upset boy. Keeping a firm grip on Kurt's hands, Blaine guided their connected bodies to the steps, where they sat together in silence. For the duration of the kiss, the endless worries that had poured from Kurt's mouth were temporarily forgotten. All Kurt could concentrate on was the gift with whom he held hands.

After a perfect eternity, Blaine's lips left Kurt's, his lungs screaming for air. Transferring both of Kurt's hands into one of his own, Blaine lifted the other and wiped Kurt's tears away with the pad of his thumb. "You...are seriously silly sometimes."

Kurt let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I know. But that doesn't mean I didn't mean what I said."

"Oh, I know. But let me explain to you why you were wrong." Blaine waited until Kurt's glasz eyes poured into his hazel ones. "Dalton _is _an amazing school. There's no denying that. Three and a half years there would look stellar on a résumé. But I don't care about that. Honestly, Kurt, and I'm not trying to sound pretentious or anything, but with my grades, and my SAT scores—and, unfortunately, with my father's connections—I could get into any university I want. As for Azimio and the rest...I don't care, Kurt. I'll take a slushie every day and a black eye every week if it means that I get to be with you more. An hour or so after school and most Saturdays isn't going to cut it for me, Kurt, not after this summer. Being with you, for so long, so close...emotionally, physically, intellectually, personally...any sort of separation in time or space feels like torture, Kurt, and it kills me inside. I'm willing to withstand any torment they throw our way, as long as we have courage together. And then there was the last thing you said. 'I'm not worth something like this.' I'm honestly angry with you for thinking that, Kurt. You're not worth this? You're worth _everything_, Kurt. _Everything._ You're worth the hassle of acclimating to a new school. You're worth daily slushie facials. You're worth leaving the Warblers behind. You're worth damaging my academic reputation—which I honestly don't think will happen. You're worth the world-ending fight I'll have with my father when he figures out what I've done. You're worth it all, Kurt. I would never trade _us, this, here _for _anything. _So don't even _try _to talk me out of this, because it's _so _not going to work, Kurt Hummel. I love you, and I'm making this decision for us."

The two sat silently for a long while, taking each other in, both unable to communicate silently with their eyes, because Blaine's monologue had rendered them both speechless. Kurt swore that if his heart swelled any greater it would explode in his ribcage. Blaine knew for a fact that if his breathing didn't become more regular he'd pass out right then and there.

The only light in the world came from the dozens of encased candles when Kurt finally spoke. "I love you." Then, placing a hand on Blaine's cheek, he leaned forward and locked lips with his perfect boyfriend. "I can't believe this is happening," he mumbled, hardly coherent.

Blaine smirked within the kiss. "I've never been so sure of a decision in my life, Kurt. I love you more than life itself."

The boys became impossibly more entangled in each other, arms and legs and fingers and tongues twisting and wrapping and dancing around each other. Soon, far too soon, it grew so far into the night that the couple shivered against each other. Laughing softly, they pulled apart. And then, without reason, the two began to sing—neither the same tune, but in perfect harmony.

"The power lines went out,  
>And I was all alone,<br>But I don't really care at all,  
>Not answering my phone."<p>

"I walked across  
>An empty land.<br>I knew the pathway like the back of my hand.  
>I felt the earth<br>Beneath my feet,  
>Sat by the river and it made me complete."<p>

"All the games you played,  
>The promises you made,<br>Couldn't finish what you started.  
>Only darkness still remains."<p>

"Oh simple thing,  
>Where have you gone?<br>I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.  
>So tell me when<br>You're gonna let me in.  
>I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."<p>

"Lost sight,  
>Couldn't see<br>When it was you and me.  
>Blow the candles out.<br>Looks like a solo tonight.  
>I'm beginning to see the light.<br>Blow the candles out.  
>Looks like a solo tonight.<br>But I think I'll be alright."

"If you have a minute why don't we go  
>Talk about it somewhere only we know.<br>This could be the end of everything,  
>So why don't we go somewhere only we know."<p>

"Blow the candles out.  
>Looks like a solo tonight.<br>I'm beginning to see the light.  
>Blow the candles out.<br>Looks like a solo tonight.  
>But I think I'll be alright."<p>

"If you have a minute why don't we go  
>Talk about it somewhere only we know.<br>This could be the end of everything,  
>So why don't we go somewhere only we know."<p>

"Come on." Blaine lithely lifted himself off of the step, pulling a once more teary Kurt with him. He snatched his bag and papers and proceeded up the steps, his free hand clutching one of Kurt's. As they moved, they blew the candles out one by one.

* * *

><p>Okay, I'm going to come out and say it: THIS is my new favorite chapter. The idea came to me...Saturday, I think, and I just KNEW I had to write it. I started this morning during AP Chemistry, and I was bubbly all day because I just KNEW this was going to be a good one. I honestly hope you agree, because, while I hate to boast, truly, I do-but I seriously love this chapter.<p>

I worked like crazy to get this out to you today, because I wanted to give you my take on things before season three starts back up tomorrow. (Let the fangirling commence!) That being said, I have made the decision to continue on with my story as though season three is still months away, unless something egregious occurs in the premiere tomorrow night and I'm somewhat forced to stop. If anyone has some serious objection to me continuing, please explain to me why and I'll sincerely take your point into consideration.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this on here (I know I've told a few of my readers in PMs about it), but in the next week or so I'll be uploading the first chapter to a four- or five-shot concerning future!Blurt, so keep a lookout for that! It will probably be rated M (for various reasons), so if you want to read it but have to alter your setting or whatever...well, I don't know how to do that, so you'd better figure out how to.

I thought I'd just reiterate my complete, undying love for all of you. Honestly, when I wake up to seven emails, all from FanFiction, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside, because you guys are the people I write for. I love you all so much. Don't ever stop being totally awesome!

On a totally unrelated note, please tell me I am not the only one who saw Darren's Superman jump in the GlamCam 360 at the Emmys last night? There I was, thinking it was impossible to love him anymore, and then BAM! He does something like that. I'm telling you, he's just a collective hallucination, guys...there's no way that kind of perfect is real...

STARKIDS! A, there is a reference for you in here (it's painfully obvious), and B, I don't know if you've seen this, but I just discovered it not too long ago, and I can't NOT share it with you.

"Wake up in the morning feelin' like Matt Lang.

Grab my snacks, I'm out the door, I'm gonna rawk this thang.

Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Squirt,

'Cause where I'm goin' gonna laugh until my stomach hurts.

We're talkin'

Darren loves Zefron more, more.

Lauren's rollin' on the floor, floor.

You can call Dylan Dumbledore, -dore.

(Not Albus!)

Walker's on Brian's head, head.

Joey's wig really isn't that red, red.

So many regrets-I'M DEAD!

Don't stop, make it pop!

AJ tear them ivories up!

Tonight, gonna FIND!

'Til we see the sunlight.

Pigfarts, Basement Arts,

And now the party starts.

Oh, whoa-oa whoa-oa! Whoa-oa whoa-oa!"

Is that not the best thing EVA?

Okay, I'm going to leave you now. Mostly because it's late and I'm tired and I have an AP US History test tomorrow that I'm ridiculously unprepared for!

I love you, my little monsters!

(If I ever sound like Lady Gaga again, hunt me down and SHOOT me.)


	38. Losses of War

**Losses of War**

Tension hung in the air as the lights flickered off, drenching the obstacle-course-like area in darkness. Strategically placed glow-in-the-dark stickers and splatters of neon paint of the same nature provided some visibility, but for the most part the boys were forced to rely on the glow of their vests for guidance. Dramatic whispers dusted the air as the various teams spread out in the complex.

Tucked behind a line of black barrels along one wall, two boys muttered intently to each other. The shorter of the pair periodically lifted his head to peek his eyes over their protective barrier, checking for enemies.

"Okay," he murmured. "We seem to be clear right now. What's our strategy?"

"Take out our biggest competition first," his partner replied with a definite _duh _in his tone.

"See, I was thinking we should take out all the easy people first, so we don't exert ourselves early on. That gives us less distraction and a fair amount of energy for when we take out the tough guys."

The other boy looked impressed. "Nice idea, Wes. I rather like it."

The Asian fist-pumped. "Yes! Dibs on team leader!"

David rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I am not taking any shots for your sorry ass."

Just then, an earsplitting buzzer rang through the complex, jolting the two boys into fight mode.

The game was on.

* * *

><p>One level up and twenty yards north, a different pair of boys crouched close together in the shadow of a high stack of wooden boxes. At the sound of the buzzer, the targets on their vests began to glow neon green, which would soon give away their position.<p>

"Blaine, these things are so tacky. They completely clash with—"

"Sh!" Blaine hissed, clapping a hand over his boyfriend's mouth. When he noticed the look on Kurt's face, however, he quickly retracted it. "Sorry, baby. We have to be quiet."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sir, yes, sir." He poked his head around the edge of the boxes. He couldn't spot anyone coming from any direction. "So what do we do, Blaine?"

Sighing, Blaine pointed to the various glowing patches on his polyester vest. "These are the targets we aim for. You use this—" He lifted his thick plastic weapon. "—and pull the trigger until all of the other person's lights go out."

Kurt turned the black pistol over in his long hands. "So, what happens when we do?"

At the question, Blaine's already excited smirk grew into a full-blown maniacal grin. "They die." He laughed when Kurt made a face at his corniness. "Really, they're out. The object is to be the last pair or individual alive. Then you wi—" Blaine's sentence caught in his throat as he heard heavy footfalls approaching from the east. He clutched Kurt close to his body and tried to make them smaller. When the steps passed their hiding spot, Blaine motioned for Kurt to remain silent. Then he crept impossibly slowly until he could see who the enemy was.

Thad—and he was alone. With an almost pitying grimace, Blaine raised his weapon, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. A cheesy sci-fi laser sound effect burst from the small speaker on the gun, and all of the lights on Thad's vest faded to black.

The older boy whipped around and spotted Blaine by the glow of his jacket. "Damn it, Anderson! This is bull!"

With a cackle, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged the very confused boy away, leaving Thad to slouch his way to the exit.

* * *

><p>They moved in sync, back to back, laser guns raised in reactionary poses. Eyes darting every which way, they scoured the third floor of the complex for any telltale signs of neon targets. From the ground level below they could hear raucous shouts and banging, and they knew that meant a pretty intense battle was being fought under their feet. This, however, suited their interests perfectly; hopefully, the hooligans would take each other out and save them the trouble of having to do it later.<p>

One of the boys whipped his head to the side as he heard a creak coming from his left. Motioning with his hand, he guided his partner behind a tall wall. The pair broke up, each poking his head out from one side. Two figures slunk through the obstacles, stepping carefully so as to not give away their position.

Grinning, Nick waved to catch Jeff's attention. The blonde grinned to acquiesce to his best friend's plan. Silently they slipped away from the protection of their wall and circled the room, flanking their enemies. With a simple nod for a signal, they burst forth and shot the other boys, killing them at the same time.

"Fuck!" Wes and David shouted simultaneously. They chucked their weapons upon the ground.

"Fuck _yes_!" Nick and Jeff rushed to each other and carried out their epic twenty-move handshake.

"Hell," David grumbled, retrieving both his and Wes's guns from the floor. "C'mon, Wes." He tugged his livid Asian friend by the sleeve.

Nick and Jeff allowed themselves another moment of jubilant celebration before wordlessly falling back into stealth warrior mode.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, four boys remained alive: Blaine and Kurt, and Nick and Jeff. Their chosen arena of battle was the bottom level of the complex. Each duo huddled on opposite ends of the room, conversing quickly and quietly about their battles strategies.<p>

"We have to take out Blaine first," Jeff insisted.

"No, Kurt's the easier target!" Nick protested. "Let's just get him out of the way!"

On the other side, the two boyfriends were having a different argument.

"Blaine, I told you going in that I've never done this before, and that I will be of no use to you."

"Look, all you have to do is keep your head down and shoot at anyone who _isn't me_."

"Did you hear that?"

Kurt and Blaine looked up. A soft thump had come from above them. As they visually searched the tops of the infrastructure in the room, they raised their guns in defense.

Then Blaine saw him.

"NOOOOOO!" he shouted, shoving Kurt out of the way just as Nick shot at him from atop a tall wall.

The laser sounded.

Blaine's vest grew dark.

"Blaine!" Kurt dragged Blaine's limp body behind a secure barrier. "Blaine!"

The shorter boy's eyes fluttered open dramatically. "Kurt?" His voice was weak. "Was I...hit?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, you dork. Why did you do that? Now we'll lose for sure."

Blaine sat up properly and brushed himself off. "Reflex," he answered simply. "I saw you about to get shot at, and I reacted."

Kurt rolled his eyes again, but he blushed despite himself. "Well, romantic and chivalrous as that might have been, it was still dumb. How am I supposed to defeat those two?"

Before Blaine could offer him encouragement, a shout came from the middle of the room. "Get your ass out, Anderson! My boy just killed you! It's just us against the Porcelain Wonder, now."

Blaine smiled sympathetically, and stood up. "Alright, Jeff, don't get your whitey-tighties in a twist," he called. He grinned when he got a bellow of "Leave my underwear out of this!" in reply. Turning back to Kurt, he whispered, "Shoot 'em dead, baby." He leaned down and pecked Kurt on the lips. Then he walked out in the open, hands raised in surrender.

"It's just you now, Hummel." Kurt shook his head scathingly at the seriousness of Nick's tone. Creeping in the opposite direction that Blaine walked, Kurt spotted a tiny opening in a group of barrels that blocked him from view. He slipped into the space, finding himself in a narrow corridor that only extended for a few yards. When he crawled through to the other side, he suddenly and surprisingly had a perfect view of Nick's perch.

With an inexplicable sense of success, Kurt moved forward in a crouch until he was in proper range.

He squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>Nick's dark eyes, wide with adrenalin, were trained unwaveringly on both exits from Kurt's hiding place. He had clear visibility for the area, and there was no way that the smaller boy could make a move that he wouldn't know about.<p>

Just then, the dreaded laser sound effect rang through the space, and Nick whooped in jubilation—Jeff had gotten Kurt!

"Nick! No!"

Jeff's tone of sorrow caught Nick by surprise. Surely Kurt hadn't shot _Jeff_...

That's when Nick noticed the lack of light around him. He looked down and saw that the glow of the targets on his vests had faded.

"Well shit!" he exclaimed. He hopped off of the wall, crashing to the floor with a thump. "Damn you, Hummel! Jeff, kill his ass!"

"Now, now." Nick had no idea from which direction Kurt's smug voice came. "No need for such vulgar language, Mr. Lake."

Seething, Nick exited the battle arena, praying that Jeff would avenge his untimely death.

* * *

><p>From the waiting area outside, the dead Warblers could see everything taking place inside through strategically placed cameras that relayed videos onto small monitors. Every jaw dropped when they saw Nick's demise.<p>

"THAT'S MY MAN!" Blaine roared, clapping his hands together furiously.

The other boys cracked up when Nick slunk into the room, head hung low in defeat. Blaine rushed over to him and thumped him on the back. "I'd say I'm sorry for you, but I'm feeling a little cocky at the moment, so...SUCK IT, LAKE!"

Shoving Blaine in the shoulder, Nick sank into a nearby chair. "First of all, you're not my type, so there will be no sucking of any kind. Second, you died first, so shut your hole. And third, your boy toy may have gotten the better of me, but now he's all alone in there with Jeff—and not just any Jeff. A pissed-off Jeff."

Blaine's superior grin faltered. When Jeff got angry, he got serious. And when Jeff got serious, he got downright _scary_. Blaine knew that it would take all of Kurt's skill to defeat the blonde terror.

* * *

><p>Neither warrior moved for quite some time. Each huddled in his own foxhole, keeping himself calm and straining to hear any sounds of movement from the other boy.<p>

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Kurt shivered as Jeff's voice echoed through the complex. The momentary pride that coursed through him right before he shot Nick was thoroughly gone. His assessment of his current situation was bleak: he was alone in the nearly-pitch black darkness with a weapon he barely knew how to use and an angry, competitive blonde who was significantly more skilled than he was. Suddenly he understood how the others could get so intense about a little game of laser tag; his heart crashed in his chest and his breaths came short and labored.

Kurt Hummel was frightened out of his mind.

He had to move. If he stayed stationary any longer the anxiety might actually swallow him whole. He darted from his barrier to another, moving in crouch.

Apparently, Jeff saw him, because he shouted, "Where're you going, Hummel? Why are you hiding?"

Despite himself, Kurt rolled his eyes. He enjoyed how Jeff conveniently ignored that fact that he, too, was hidden from his opponent's line of sight. However hypocritical the statement was, it only helped Kurt, because he now had a rough idea as to where the other boy was. Kurt slipped silently forward, careful to step slowly and keep his head down. He peeked around a pile of boxes.

Jeff lay prone approximately seventy yards in front of him, his eyes and pistol aimed fixedly to Kurt's right. Kurt couldn't help but be impressed; he had been hiding in that direction not thirty seconds prior. It seemed as though Jeff had not realized that Kurt had moved, however.

Smiling to himself, Kurt positioned himself so he had a clear shot at his friend-turned-temporary-enemy. Just as he was about to take the other boy down, the hard plastic of his vest whacked against the wood of a box.

That caught Jeff's attention. The blonde whipped around, easily spotting Kurt sticking out from behind the wall of boxes.

Both boys raised their weapons simultaneously.

Both pulled the trigger.

The sound effect broke the tense silence.

Neither move for a long moment; instead, they merely glared into each other's eyes, both unwilling to look down and see who got the shot off first. Finally, through, via unspoken agreement, they broke their gaze and looked down.

* * *

><p>The viewing room exploded.<p>

"HOLY CRAP!"

"THAT WAS SO BEAST!"

"WHO KNEW HE HAD IT IN HIM?"

"SUCK IT, LAKE! SUCK IT SUCK IT SUCK IT SUCK IT SUCK IT!"

Nick shoved Blaine backward before burying his face in his hands. "I miss dapper Blaine."

After a minute of exclamations of surprise and excitement, the door to the complex opened, and the two final warriors entered, one slouching, the other striding.

The Warblers engulfed Kurt, slapping him on the back and ruffling his hair, which didn't faze him too terribly, as it lost its perfect coif during the battle. While a dozen boys babbled in Kurt's ear, Jeff slumped over to Nick, who patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, not even saying a word.

"ALRIGHT, LET ME THROUGH!" Blaine wove his way through the mass of Warblers, finding his boyfriend's slim frame and wrapping his arms around it. "You have no idea how hot that was," Blaine growled in Kurt's ear. That elicited from the older boy a soft giggle and a deep blush.

* * *

><p>The group of teenage boys crowded around four tables in the pizzeria down the street. They laughed and ate and drank and chatter away, gleefully enjoying each other's company. Their fellow patrons looked slightly annoyed by the ruckus they were making, but they were having too much fun to truly care.<p>

After a while, Wes stood up, raising his glass of Diet Pepsi above his head. "To Warbler Blaine!" he called out. The other boys copied him, and Blaine ducked his head modestly. "We're losing not only a Warbler, but a comrade, a teammate, a brother, and a friend. Blaine, you were the best damn soloist Dalton Academy has seen in many years."

David stood up, glass above his head, and continued Wes's thought. "We know that the choice you made was not made lightly, and that you made it for all of the right reasons. I mean, you have no _idea _how much it was _killing_ the rest of us to watch you and Kurt _not _be together." The boys in question flushed, and the other rolled their eyes at the memory of the frustration they felt toward the two. "We wish you nothing but the best for your future both at McKinley and with Kurt."

Suddenly Nick leapt out of his seat, closely followed by Jeff. "And just remember, Anderson—"

"—we're gonna kick your ass at Regionals!" Jeff finished. The Warblers erupted into appreciative laughter, and then the entire group merged together for an impressive family hug.

Kurt stood in the center with Blaine, holding his hand and hugging someone he believed to be Thad. He noticed moisture in his boyfriend's eyes. "Are you okay?" he murmured, squeezing his hand.

Blaine nodded. "I'm just really going to miss these guys."

"Aw! We'll miss you too, Blainey!" Blaine wasn't sure who shouted out, but it didn't matter. He was with his friends and the person he loved more than anyone else in the world.

Life was good.

* * *

><p>Really short AN guys because I have to go catch my bus! A TRILLION shout-outs to MrMouseandCheese for this prompt, because it was TOTALLY AWESOME! I had an unhealthy amount of fun writing this chapter, and it's my longest to date. Thanks!

Okay, I'm not giving away any spoilers for "I Am Unicorn," but if someone is interested in speculation and some serious fangirling, PM me.

Um...what else...I've uploaded a new story (one chapter so far) so check that out if you want to...it won't be long...

I feel like I'm not giving you guys some piece of information that I need to give you, but I have no idea what it is, and I have to run (literally), so I'll talk to you guys later!

(I ran through the sprinklers in the dark last night.)


	39. Box of Memories

**Box of Memories**

The dust wafted through the heavy air, dancing in the single beam of light that illuminated the small space through the circular window. The sloped ceiling didn't offer much head room, and their movement was hindered. Scattered and stacked upon the wooden floor were dozens of boxes, most of them of the typical cardboard variety, but a few of interesting colors and shapes.

The two boys worked tirelessly through the afternoon, the heat of the day manifesting itself in the sweat that glued their dingy t-shirts to their backs. Their muscles ached from hauling the boxes every which way, and their spines were sore from constantly crouching and ducking. Periodically, refreshments were sent up to cool them off, but even tall, condensation-covered glasses of lemonade couldn't fight the early August heat.

When the clock nearly struck two, the taller of the pair collapsed upon the ground, spreading his limbs far from his core. "Dude, it's way too hot for this."

The other boy nodded in agreement. "I think I saw on the news this morning that this summer has been one of the hottest on record."

Just then, a third boy's head poked up from the open hatch in the floor, grinning broadly. "Hello, gentlemen! Would you care for another glass of my lemonade?"

Not even bothering to lift his head, Finn snapped, "What I would _care _for, _Kurt_, is you getting off your lazy butt and helping us clean out this attic so we can get it done faster."

Kurt's eyes narrowed, and the now-irked diva pushed himself up so his forearms rested on the floor of the attic. "I'm sorry, _Finn_, but I _am _working. I'm washing all of _your _disgusting clothes so you don't have to wear sweaty, grimy basketball shorts on your date with Rachel tonight."

As Kurt chewed Finn out, Blaine was trying to make himself as small as possible—not an altogether difficult task, considering his stature—all too aware of how Kurt could be when he was offended.

Finn seemed to sense danger as well, because he rolled his head over to look apologetically at his stepbrother. "I'm sorry, bro. It's the heat, man. I didn't mean to be...well, mean."

"Very well, then," Kurt sniffed. "I still have lemonade if you want it."

Now confident than no one's head was going to be ripped off, Blaine stepped forward, offering his hand to his boyfriend. Kurt took it and climbed into the attic. He brushed himself off and reached down, lifting the tray up. The two worked thirstily grabbed glasses, downing the yellow liquid as though it was their lifelines. Kurt smiled as he watched them, trying desperately and fruitlessly to not gawk at the irresistible way Blaine's soaked t-shirt clung to his impressive chest.

After a minute, Finn stood up. "Great. Now I gotta pee." He scrambled down the ladder, not noticing the way Kurt rolled his eyes.

When Finn was gone, Kurt strode over to were Blaine stood in a fraction of a second, locking their lips together securely, much to the younger boy's surprise.

After a long, passionate moment, Kurt pulled away, giggling lightly. "Sorry! You just look so...wow."

Blaine rolled his eyes mockingly. "Baby, please. I _always _look so wow." He tried to wrap his arms around Kurt, but the taller boy leapt out of reach.

"No no!" he exclaimed, raising his hands in caution. "There will only be looking for me. No touching. You are so gross right now."

Blaine tried to bite back his laugh, but to no avail. He stumbled backward and knocked over a few boxes. Groaning, he bent down to stack them again. "Now look what you've done, Hum—oh."

Kurt, who was thoroughly captivated by his wonderful view of his boyfriend's rear, did not hear a word the other boy said. "Kurt. Kurt!" He snapped back to the present. "Huh?"

Blaine was staring at him concernedly. "Are you okay?"

Kurt flushed sheepishly. "Yeah, I just...I got distracted. What did you say?"

"Nothing. I just thought your silence might have been about...this."

Kurt finally noticed the box in Blaine's hands. It was rectangular and roughly the size of a manila folder. Blaine traced his calloused fingers along the grain of the deep brown wood, the lid laying forgotten on the floor.

Kurt's heard stopped. "Oh."

Blaine reached down for the lid. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. I'll just put this—"

"No." Kurt stretched out a hand, stopping Blaine's backpedal. "It's just...I haven't seen that stuff in...in a long while." He took the box from Blaine, whose eyes inspected Kurt's stoic face for any sign of emotion. Kurt perched himself on a sturdy plastic container full of Christmas decorations. Slowly, he reached a hand into the box and pulled something out.

"This was my parents' prom photo." His voice was flat. He lifted up a rectangular photograph. In it, a tall, thinner Burt, clad in a powder blue tuxedo, had his arm wrapped around a young woman with auburn hair that fell in ringlets past her porcelain shoulders, which were barely hidden by a slimming soft pink dress. The beautiful couple stood under an arch of red and white balloons, grinning broadly, seeming perfectly at easy with one another.

Blaine smiled softly. "You look just like her, Kurt."

That elicited a sniffle from the older boy. "Here's their wedding picture."

Blaine took the photo. He looked down at the slightly balding Burt, quite snazzy in a sharp black tuxedo, who carried his blushing and giggling bride in his arm, carefully not ruffling her flowing, gorgeous dress.

Blaine knelt beside his boyfriend, lowering the picture back into the box. "Sweetie, if this is too difficult..." He trailed off when he noticed that Kurt was smiling through his tears.

"Her name was Elizabeth," he whispered, clutching a newspaper article. "She was...she was amazing, Blaine. She laughed a lot—I mean, about anything. My dad always said that because she always laughed about everything I did, that I'd never be properly disciplined, but he loved it. She could cook anything. Anything. French, Italian, Chinese, Ugandan—everything she made tasted like it came from heaven. She had the voice of an angel, Blaine. I mean...sometimes, when I can't fall asleep, I can hear her singing 'Blackbird.' She's the one who taught me how to play the piano. Sometimes we'd put on impromptu concerts for my dad. She'd sing the Beatles, and I'd sing Disney. I think she knew I'm gay. Hell, my dad knew by the time I was three, and he's never been the most observant guy around. Her favorite movie to watch with me was _Cinderella. _She told me that I sang just as beautifully as Cinderella did, and that someday—" He began to choke up, and Blaine squeezed both of his hands in his own. "Someday my prince would come and save me." With that, he collapsed onto Blaine's shoulders, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

Blaine rubbed soothing circles into the distraught boy's back. He felt Kurt shake in his arms, and he never felt so helpless. He knew Kurt was extremely close to his mother, and that her untimely death struck him hard. Guilt washed over him as he thought of his own parents. What if they were dead? He shuddered at the idea of growing up solely under his father's care; though his mother was not much of a figure in his life, he knew that his father, if given complete and utter reign, would most likely have beaten him to death before he even had a chance to come out of the closet. Despite this, he didn't want either of his parents to die—and he didn't know how he felt about _that. _The whole scenario was very confusing and emotionally taxing for him.

After a relatively short while, Kurt's sobs quieted and his tears slowed. He pulled himself up from Blaine's embrace, wiping sloppily at his now-red eyes. "I'm sorry for being so silly—"

Blaine silenced his boyfriend with a kiss. "No, _I'm_ sorry you had to relive this. I can't imagine losing my mother at such a young age. I'm so sorry, baby."

Kurt smiled down weakly at the newspaper cut-out he gripped. "This is the article about the crash. I've never read it. I could never bring myself...I don't want to know too much."

Blaine nodded understandingly. Then slowly, gently, he reached up and tugged the thin sheet from Kurt's grasp. "You don't have to read this now, or ever, if you don't want to. I'm sure she'll be okay with that."

Not bothering to correct Blaine's tense, Kurt jerked his head noncommittally. Then he froze. "Will you..." He bit his lip. Blaine didn't ask him to continue; he merely looked on until the taller boy was ready. "Will you read it?"

Immediately, Blaine stretched up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck. "I would be honored," he whispered into Kurt's ear. Then he looked down at the paper in his fist.

**MOTHER SLAUGHTERED BY DRUNK DRIVER**  
><em>Synnovea Ashe<br>Lima, OH  
>February 24, 2002<em>

Last night, at approximately 8:50 PM, mother and wife Elizabeth Hummel, 27, died upon impact after a drunk driver crashed into her vehicle. The driver, 22-year-old Morgan Griffin, ran the red light on the corner of Park Avenue and Conner Boulevard. Hummel was returning home after a trip to the Walgreens on Park. Griffin sustained mild brain trauma and sever lacerations as a result of the crash. Hummel left behind a husband, Burt, 28, and a son, Kurt, 8. The police...**SEE DRUNK DRIVER, B6.**

Blaine's eyes flooded with tears as he read, and his heart ached for the eight-year-old boy who would never see his mother again. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision before looking back up at Kurt. When he did so, he found that the seated boy was starting pointedly in the opposite direction, afraid to watch Blaine's reaction to the article. To recapture his attention, Blaine lightly squeezed Kurt's trembling hand.

Kurt looked down at him and smiled. "I still don't want to know."

Blaine stood and gingerly nudged Kurt's hip with his own. When the older boy scooted over, Blaine sat beside him on the container. "That's okay. Thank you for letting me in, though." Kurt merely nodded.

Just then, Finn clambered up through the hole in the floor, already blabbering away. "Sorry I took so long, after I peed my mom cornered me and threatened to check my browser history if I didn't clear all the food out of my bedroom, which as you know if a very large amount, so it took me awhile—what's wrong?"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the amount of time it took Finn to notice that the boyfriends were still teary-eyed. "It's nothing, Finn. You and Blaine should finish up in here; you only have another fifteen minutes of work, if you hurry. I have some neutrals to go fold." He stood up and handed the box of memories to Blaine, kissing him swiftly on the lips. Then he swept past a baffled Finn and down the ladder.

Finn watched his stepbrother leave, and then turned to gape at Blaine, who merely shook his head. "Don't ask, Finn. Just...don't ask."

Not wanting to poke a hornet's nest unnecessarily, Finn nodded. The pair returned to their work, gratefully finding that Kurt's guesstimate was fairly accurate; after about fifteen minutes of hauling boxes to their proper positions, Finn and Blaine spent a little less than five more lugging trash bags of discarded items to the curb. As soon as he dropped the last Hefty with the rest, Finn traipsed off to take a shower, muttering something along the lines of, "Rachel's gonna kill me if I show up grubby." Smiling, Blaine made his way into Kurt's room, where he found the older boy stretched out upon his bed, listening to the _Wicked _soundtrack that flowed from his iHome.

"Hey, you." Blaine slid next to Kurt, pulling him in for a tight hug. "Are you alright? I mean, really?"

He felt Kurt nod. "I just really miss her, Blaine."

Blaine didn't reply. He merely hummed along to the music, allowing his presence to lull his boyfriend into a twilight-zone slumber, to which he, too, succumbed soon after.

* * *

><p>Hey guys! I'm really, really, really, really, REALLY sorry (again) for taking so long to update. I've had a seriously crazy week, inundated with so much school work that I'd've cried if I wasn't too tired to form tears. But here you are, chapter...thirty-nine? I don't really know.<p>

Thanks MrMouseAndCheese for this prompt! I liked the mouse thing, but I thought, "You know, I've been chucking angst at Blaine for a while. Time to switch things up." Hope you liked it!

I HAVE A TUMBLR! AND I'M SLOWLY LEARNING HOW TO USE IT! I'm klainebowsandquirrelmort (thanks loveconquers1!) so check me out!

There's something else I wanted to tell you...I thought of it when I went to bed at one in the morning, so...yeah, it's gone now. I'm going to remember it the second I hit update, I know it. Hm...

*elevator music*

Ah well. It's not coming to me.

If you're waiting for an update for my story "The Moments We Remember"...sorry. I'm working on it, really, but those chapters are longer and take a ridiculously long time to write. I'm working on them as fast as I can, but I can't work miracles.

Yet.


	40. Shattered

**Shattered**

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. His glasz eyes never left the road, with the brief exceptions of when they flicked to the clock on the dash and back. He had to remind himself to breathe, for the anxiety that wracked his body left him breathless. The padded seat below him was stone; he knew that if he spent another moment in that car he'd scream from the frustration. For once, the vehicle was quiet—no iPod was linked to the stereo system, no Bluetooth headset alerted him of a new call, no brother or best friend or boyfriend chattered away in his ear. The silence should have helped him focus on the road; instead, it merely allowed his whirring brain to ruminate darkly on what was happening _right now._

An agonizingly long time later, he screeched to a stand-still a few hundred yards in front of a gargantuan manor, one with rolling landscaping and a wrap-around porch. He ignored this beauty, though, and dashed from the car. He skidded underneath the powerful mulberry tree that shaded the front of the white house from the sunlight reflecting off of a waxing moon.

"Blaine?" Kurt tried to keep his voice quiet, he truly did, but the panic and anger and sadness bubbled over, raising his volume and cracking his words. "Blaine, oh my God, Blaine, are you okay?"

From the center of the tree he heard a loud rustling. Moments later, a short body crashed to the earth before him, crumpling into a heap unaffected by gravity. "Kurt...thank _God _you're here..."

Kurt wrapped his slender arms around Blaine's shaking frame in an instant. "Oh sweetie, come on, let's go, we need to get away from here—"

"My mom..." Blaine protested feebly, his face buried in the crook of Kurt's neck.

Kurt shook his head stubbornly. "No. I need to get you home and get you safe. Then we can work on getting your mother away from him, okay?" He felt relieved when Blaine nodded. "Alright, baby, let's go." He carefully lifted Blaine to his feet and ushered him to his Navigator, settling him into the passenger seat. As he walked around the front of the vehicle, he noticed a tall, broad figure lurking in the shadow of the doorway of the house. Glaring, he rocketed into the car, slamming the door behind him. As he pulled away, he did something to Blaine's father that he'd never done to anyone before: he flipped him off.

Soon the two were speeding toward Lima, Kurt's right hand wrapped tightly around Blaine's left. His other hand once more clutched the wheel, albeit less forcefully that it had during the first trip. He muttered soothing words at the hysterical boy. He didn't say much of anything, but it worked, because soon Blaine began to calm down, his sobs diminishing into sniffling hiccups.

Kurt rolled to a stop at the red light just outside Lima. He turned to Blaine. "Baby...what _happened_?"

Blaine shook his head dismissively, squeezing Kurt's hand like a lifeline. "He read our last text conversation."

Kurt flushed deeply. He recalled the unusually lewd messages they'd exchanged the night before, wincing at the thought of Blaine's father's reaction. "Why does he keep discovering us in compromising situations? It's not like we do that often."

Blaine laughed humorlessly. "Maybe his 'my gay son is acting on his sinful tendencies' sense was tingling."

Kurt was not amused. "Don't say things like that, Blaine! You are not wrong-_we _are right. He's the wrong one. Prejudice is just ignorance, Blaine." The two shared a tiny smile as they momentarily flashed back to that fateful day at Dalton Academy. Then Kurt looked up and spotted that the light had turned green. He pressed down on the gas pedal.

The other car's headlights weren't switched on, which explained why Kurt didn't see it coming. He noticed it when it smashed into his door, sending the Navigator spinning through the intersection. The boyfriends' worlds were thrown into a whirlwind of color and sound and pain. The car came to a violent halt when the left side collided with a light pole.

For a moment, the world was silent.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was barely above a whisper.

There was no response.

Slowly and gingerly, Blaine tested his fingers; they moved easily enough. He attempted to lift his right arm and immediately cried out in pain. He switched to his left, and that one was merely sore. He touched his forehead and discovered a warm, thick liquid oozing from his skin; he'd received a myriad of mildly superficial cuts from the shards of shattered driver's side window that flew at his face. He then stretched out a shaky hand to nudge Kurt's mangled shoulder. "Baby...Kurt...please...answer me...Kurt..."

Still nothing.

Slowly, Blaine reached into his front jeans pocket and extracted a banged-up cell phone. He couldn't help but sigh with relief when it turned on without hesitation. He dialed the three numbers that he prayed would save their lives.

"Nine one one, what's your emergency?"

Blaine coughed once, and then spoke. "Car crash...outside Lima...Kurt...he won't talk to me..."

The cool, feminine voice on the other end of the phone cut off his rambling. "Are you okay?"

Blaine gave a slight nod, but quickly remembered that the operator couldn't see him. "I...I'm okay. But Kurt..."

"Son, what's your name?"

"Blaine Anderson."

"Okay, Blaine, and your friend Kurt is...?"

Blaine didn't understand the question; his bleeding head pounded intolerably, and he was fighting to keep awake. "He's my boyfriend."

The operator sighed quietly, but pressed on. "No, sweetie, I mean where is he?"

"Oh." Despite his situation, Blaine felt stupid. "He's next to me, in the driver's seat."

"Are the pair of you still in the vehicle?"

"Yes-should we leave?"

"No, Blaine, stay right where you are. We've got your location, and the paramedics are already on their way. Can you tell me about the other driver?"

Blaine bit his lip to hold back tears. "He came out of nowhere. I didn't see him coming...If I had, I could've warned Kurt...oh my God...What if he doesn't wake up? This is all my fault! Oh my God-"

"Blaine, I need you to keep calm, okay?" The operator could hear the injured boy's breathing quickly becoming more rapid, and the last thing anyone needed was for him to pass out. "Just focus on right now, okay? Don't worry about what happened, or what will happen—just what's happening right now. Can you do that for me?"

Blaine nodded again. When the operator spoke his name questioningly, he remembered. "Yeah...yeah, I can do that."

"Okay, Blaine, that's good. I'm going to put you on hold for just a minute, okay? I need to find out where the ambulances are. Can you hold on for just a bit?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll be right back, Blaine."

The line went silent. Blaine kept the phone next to his ear. He had to try one more time. "Kurt? Baby, please make a noise if you can hear me. Please, Kurt?"

Silence.

Then:

"Blaine?"

Blaine laughed in relief, but the sudden movement of his chest brought about a round of hacking coughs. "Kurt!" he sputtered. "Baby, are you okay?"

"Blaine..." Kurt's voice trailed off, already weak to begin with.

"Kurt?"

But the older boy was silent once more.

Blaine's breathing picked up again, and the mangled world twisted and blurred before his eyes. He knew he needed to stay awake, for Kurt, for himself, for the damn 911 operator, but he couldn't. He fell deep, deep into the void of darkness that swallowed him whole.

* * *

><p>The sirens tugged him back to consciousness. His bleary eyes fluttered open to watch teams of blue-clad men scrambling to gain access to the wrecked vehicle. He tried to speak to them, but all that he could muster was a painful, body-wracking cough.<p>

"We've got a live one!"

Blaine's heart froze. _A live one? Did that mean that someone wasn't...?_

Suddenly, the passenger door of the Navigator was gone, and a neck brace wound its way around Blaine's throat. Then strong arms were lifting him, and he was laid out on an uncomfortable stretcher.

Finally, he found his voice. "Kurt...where is he?"

His answer came in the form of a relieved shout. "The other one has a pulse, too!"

Unable to move his head, Blaine stared deeply into the black August sky above, praying and wishing and hoping and demanding that Kurt be okay. Within a minute, the grating sound of wheel upon gravel told him that another stretcher was approaching. As it passed him, limp fingers brushed his own.

* * *

><p>The drive to the hospital was agonizing. The bright light above blinded him, and two EMTs fussed over him, sticking him with various needles and checking his pulse and his temperature and his responses and his reflexes and God knew what else. He kept trying to ask about Kurt, but the oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth was proving to be a worthy adversary to conversation.<p>

One of the men with him gripped a radio in his hand and spoke into it fervently. "White male, approximately seventeen years of age, one hundred and sixty-five pounds, car crash victim, BP..." Blaine tuned him out. He honestly didn't care what was wrong with himself; he needed to know how Kurt was faring. He only picked up certain words, like "dislocation" and "tachycardia" and "trauma"—nothing about Kurt or the other driver.

Soon enough, they pulled into the ambulance bay at Lima Memorial Hospital. The paramedics jumped out when two ER nurses opened the doors, sliding the stretcher out with them. They popped open the legs and wheeled him into the blissful darkness. This peace lasted only a moment, because too soon he was under the even more glaring lights of the emergency room. Several bodies moved about him frantically, pushing and pulling and grabbing and poking and feeling and _annoying. _He struggled against the dozen hands pressing him down, propping himself up on his forearms. "Will someone tell me where my boyfriend is before I lose it?"

Blaine locked eyes with one nurse. She was young, maybe only six or seven years his senior. Little wisps of mousy brown hair fell from her messy bun and framed her soft blue eyes-eyes that looked comfortingly similar to Kurt's. She gripped his hand, and he instantly felt better. "Your boyfriend was the other boy in the crash, right?" She smiled sweetly when he nodded. "He's alright, honey. He's got a pretty bad concussion, but other than that and the same cuts and bruises you've got, he's doing just fine."

Blaine nodded again, placated for the moment. While he allowed the nurse to lower him back against the hospital bed he now realized he'd been moved into, he asked, "When can I see him?"

The nurse sighed softly. "The doctors are with him right now, and his family is on the way, so-"

"Oh my God!" Blaine shot upright once more, ignoring the nurse's discouraging shoves back and the dizziness that rocked his world. "Oh my God, Burt! Oh no, he's got to be so scared, after-after Elizabeth...oh my God, he's going to kill me, this is all my fault-"

"No it's not, Blaine!"

Blaine and the nurses in the curtained cubicle turned to look at the entrance. Rachel's chocolate eyes glistened with a multitude of tears threatening to fall, and her bottom lip was purple-red, as though it had been abused by nervous teeth. She hugged herself about the middle, looking even tinier than usual. Everyone save the Kurt-eyed nurse vacated the space, leaving the three alone.

Rachel scurried over to perch upon a low stool right next to Blaine, grabbing his hand. "They won't let me in to see Kurt." Her voice was thick and cracking. The moisture in her eyes began leaking onto her pale skin, matting her eyelashes together. "Family only, for the time being. I'm really, really scared Blaine. You have no idea what that phone call was like."

Blaine cocked his head to the side in confusion-a mistake, considering how sore it was-and asked, "What do you mean?"

Rachel gripped his fingers even more tightly. "I was there, at their house, with Finn, when Burt got the call." The tears cascaded down her face now, though her eyes were squeezed shut. "Burt answered and...it was like the world stopped. He just dropped the phone...and it landed on the couch...and Finn...Finn was worried about Burt, so I picked it up, and...when the police officer told me what happened...I was so scared, Blaine." Rachel pulled their conjoined hands to her face and sobbed into them.

Blaine couldn't move much, but he managed to reach his other hand up to stroke her hair lightly. "Hey, Rachel, it's okay. We're fine. I mean, yeah, the crash was...it was bad, I'm not going to lie, but...I'm okay, and Kurt..." He trailed off; he didn't actually know how Kurt was—and that absolutely killed him inside. No matter what the nurse said, Kurt wasn't okay until Blaine saw so with his own eyes.

The nurse seemed to sense this, because, with a soft smile, she said, "How about this? If you feel up to it-and I mean really up to it, Blaine, not just you want to so you'll fake it-I'll wheel you down to his room and sneak the two of you in with the family."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! I'm dying over here, please I need to-"

The nurse cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Okay, hold on just sec." She disappeared from the cubicle, and before Blaine and Rachel had a chance to share a relieved smile, she returned, pushing a gray wheelchair before her. Carefully, she and Rachel lifted Blaine up, gingerly adjusted his various monitors and wires, and pointedly avoiding his recently relocated right shoulder. Then the party of the three progressed down the corridor to an actual hospital room on the other end of the floor. They halted just outside a door with a placard reading _Room 164. _The nurse twisted the knob and pushed it open lightly.

Inside, three figures crowded around a single bed, two sitting and one standing awkwardly to the side. Finn looked up first, and, meeting Rachel's eyes, smiled weakly. Carole turned next; when she saw who had arrived, she quickly leapt up from her chair and made room. Burt's gaze never left his son's face.

When Blaine was wheeled closer to the bed, he gasped in horror. His boyfriend's normally porcelain skin was mottled blue and black, with stains of red spattered throughout. Innumerable fairly deep cuts marred the smooth surface, and his once-coiffed brown locks were strapped to his skull by a thick white bandage that hugged the circumference of his head. Blaine immediately snatched up his delicate hand and clung to it as though it was his lifeline.

At the sudden movement, Kurt's glasz eyes flickered open in surprise. "Blaine...?"

The sigh of relief that Blaine released came out as a disbelieving, breathy laugh. "Oh my God, Kurt, oh my God! Thank God, I thought...oh man, I just thought...I am _so sorry, _Kurt, you have _no idea _how bad I feel, because you're so _broken _right now, and it's all my fault, it's completely my fault-" His gaze left his damaged boyfriend and fixed shakily upon Burt's stoic face. "I can't imagine how much you hate me right now. I promised you that I would never let anything happen to Kurt, and...and _look _at him! I've let you down, I've let him down-I called him tonight, I did, and he wouldn't've even _been _in that car if-"

"-if your father hadn't tried to kill you," Burt murmured softly. Every eye in the room turned to the man, with the exception of Kurt's, which stayed unwaveringly on his distraught lover. "Blaine, I know why Kurt bolted from the house tonight. I know why he drove like a madman to Westerville, and I know exactly why he was in that intersection when he was. I want you know that I don't blame you for _any _of it. I don't hate you because Kurt doesn't hate you-he loves you, and I'm fairly sure he made that obvious when he ran out in the middle of his moisturizing routine in order to get you from that place. It's not your fault that your father is the way he is, and it's not your fault that that driver was drunk. Now, I'm not going to lie, when I got that phone call...all of a sudden it was nine years ago, and every piece of me died inside. But now..." He clutched Kurt's hand strongly. "He's okay. And you're okay." Burt surprised Blaine by wrenching his eyes from Kurt and settling them on Blaine's heartbroken face. "You two are a lot stronger than we give you credit for, you know? Of course you'd be okay.

"Now, I'm going to go out and talk to the cops about the son of a bitch who put you here. I'll be back in a few, okay Kurt?" He stared down once more at his mangled son.

"Yeah." Kurt's voice was raspy and much deeper than its normal pitch, but he spoke well enough. "We'll be good."

With a final smile and squeeze of the hand, Burt stood and walked toward the door. On his way out, he stopped briefly to clasp Blaine's shoulder. Then he, Carole, Finn, Rachel, and the nurse departed, leaving the boyfriends alone.

Blaine laid his head down against Kurt's discolored arm. "Baby, I'm so-"

"Shut it, Blaine." The younger boy looked up in surprise, but found that Kurt's face was soft, not angry. "I don't want to hear it. You listened to my father, right?" Blaine nodded. "Well, then there's nothing left to say. I'm glad I drove to get you, Blaine, because I love you and the thought of you being tormented by your father is a thousand times scarier to me than twelve car crashes. I love you, Blaine. I love that you're still sorry right now, even though that's totally irrational, and that you probably fought to get yourself here, even though you're completely incapacitated, and that you're going to worry and fuss over me for weeks, even though my concussion should clear up in a relatively short time. Come here." He motioned with his finger for Blaine to move forward. The other boy did so, leaning as far as he could. Kurt met him in the middle with his lips.

They were safe, they were happy, and they were in love.

Really, nothing had changed.

* * *

><p>! This chapter is over three thousand words-my longest yet! I finished it about an hour ago, and when I did I screamed and danced around the house. I wondered if my parents would ask me why I was so excited, but they didn't, and that's when I realized that they were so used to me screaming and dancing around the house that they didn't see anything out of the ordinary.<p>

Anyways, ANGST! BLANGST! KLANGST! I don't know why I keep writing this sad stuff, guys; I'm in the process of re-editing my old chapters, and all of the ones in the beginning were so short and sweet and happy-but as I go along, they get longer and darker and more depressing. I have noticed one thing though: they really get dark around the same time school started back up. COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT, SIR!

Did I totally fool you guys? I bet you thought, "Oh great, here she goes again, going on and on and ON about how crappy Blaine's dad is, yadda yadda yadda, can we get PAST this now?" And then BOOM! CAR CRASH! OUT OF NOWHERE! I tricked you! I felt so evil (and clever) when I thought of this.

Okay, I remembered the thing I meant to tell you at the end of the last chapter but forgot, just like I told you I would. In my previous chapters, I, like ninety-nine point nine bar percent of the Glee viewership, believed Blaine to be older than Kurt, and thus always referred to him as "the older boy." Well, now, obviously, we know that this isn't the case, and even if Blaine IS older, he's in a lower grade, and I am thus referring to him now as "the younger boy." In my editing process, I am going back and rectifying this, along with other careless blunders I've made, such as insisting that Kurt drives an Escalade when, in reality, he drives a Navigator.

I am a dumbass sometimes.

I have now used Darren Criss quotes and/or lyrics in three AP Lang essays and one sermon for my church, and I shall use more in another sermon I'm giving on the thirtieth. BOOYA!

Okay, so as many of you may know, Tuesday, October 11 was National Coming Out Day in the US. Tyler Oakley, a former intern for the Trevor Project (an organization that offers crisis counseling and suicide prevention for members of the LGBT community), created the Coming Out Day Challenge, in which participants make a video response detailing their relationship with the LGBT community-whether you're coming out or reaffirming your sexuality or offering encouragement to those still in the closet or establishing yourself as a straight ally to the community. This last option is something I feel strongly called to do, but I'm having trouble working up the courage (yes, courage; obviously I'm not listening to my inner Blaine) to ask my parents for their permission. They don't really approve of me being on the Internet in such a vulnerable capacity (little do they know that I'm already on YouTube, but that's beside the point), and I really would like their support in this. If anyone has any suggestions or whatnot as to how I can approach them-or what I can say in my video so as to not sound like a babbling fool-please review or PM me or whatever and let me know. Also, if you'd like more information about this CODC, the video is on my blog, klainebowsandquirrelmort[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com.

What else, what else...I promise right here and right now that as soon as I submit this, I am going to work on chapter two of "The Moments We Remember," for those of you who care (which I imagine is not many among you). It probably (LOL JK, DEFINITELY) won't be done tonight, but I'm hoping to have it up before the end of the weekend.

No promises.

At all.

I am no longer failing AP Chemistry.

...

I hope.


	41. You Matter

**You Matter**

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the car off, mentally reminding himself to check the odd click that he heard from under the hood when he next found himself at Hummel Tire & Lube. Of course, with the purposeful recollection of that task, a dozen more flooded into his tired brain as he stepped out of the vehicle: tomorrow was Friday, and thus the traditional Hummel-now Hudson-Hummel-Friday Family Dinner; he really should replace his windshield wiper fluid; he had some ordering he needed to do online. He trudged into the house, taking care to knock the grime from his work boots off onto the welcome mat outside. Slamming the door behind him, he hung his jacket on the wooden hook protruding from the wall.

Before he took another step, he froze; music drifted down from the floor above, vaguely familiar to him. Normally the noise wouldn't bother him, but after such a long day, some silence would be appreciated. For this reason he lifted one tired foot after one tired foot up the long staircase. When he reached the top landing, he easily located the source of the sound; with a sigh, he debated whether or not he should intervene. He had promised the boys to give them their space, but music that loud could be covering up another activity.

Just as he had decided to knock on the door, it burst open, and a short, curly-haired boy leapt forth into the hall, clutching a roll brush in his hand.

"I JUST HAD SEX! AND IT FELT SO GOOD! A MAN LET ME PUT MY PENIS INSIDE OF HIM AND I WANT TO TELL THE WORLD!"

A second boy toppled out of the room behind him, a hairbrush in his grip as well.

"HAVE YOU EVER HAD SEX? I HAVE-IT FELT GREAT! IT FELT SO GOOD WHEN I DID IT WITH MY PENIS!"

He simply stood there, jaw hanging loose, as he took in the sight before him. His son and his boyfriend danced in front of him, eyes squeezed shut, singing about having sex.

What the _hell _happened?

Burt cleared his throat. The eyes of the two boys snapped open, and Kurt squealed. "Oh my Gaga-Dad!"

He turned about and rushed into his bedroom. A moment later, the music stopped. Then Kurt slunk back out into the hallway, sheepishly holding his hairbrush behind his back. "Hi Daddy."

Blaine's hazel eyes had blown wide, his lightly tanned skin now cherry red. He allowed his brush to fall to the floor before inching to the side, putting as much distance between himself and Kurt as surreptitiously as possible. "Sir, I-"

"Boys, follow me." Burt spun around on his heel and marched back down the stairs, no longer exhausted. After sharing an embarrassed and frightened smile, Blaine and Kurt slumped after him, unable to look each other in the eyes. Burt led them into the empty dining room, where he sat at the end of the large table. He motioned for the boys to sit on either side of him, across from each other; they did so without a word.

Calmly, Burt pressed the tips of his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "Boys, would you like to tell me what I just walked in on?"

The terrified teenagers began to babble at once.

"I swear, sir, that was _not _what it looked like-"

"It was just a stupid prank, Dad, something for Glee-"

"We've never, I mean, we haven't-"

"We thought we'd freak everybody out, you know, they next time we got together-"

"I mean, we've discussed it, but-"

"We didn't actually-I mean, maybe someday-"

"_Definitely _someday-"

"_Blaine_!"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Look, Dad, we wouldn't-we're not ready-"

"We didn't have sex today, sir."

"It's-it's just a song."

They stopped, breathless, staring at the older man as he took in what they'd just spilled out. After a long, agonizing, silent moment, he nodded, and the boyfriends sighed in relief.

"I trust you two," Burt began. When Blaine and Kurt grinned in response, he grimaced. "That being said, I really should talk to you two about boundaries."

That wiped the smiles off of their faces. "Dad..." Kurt tried to intervene, but the look his father shot him ended the protest.

"I know we've talked about this, Kurt, but I haven't gone over it with Blaine, and it needs to be said." He took a deep breath, and then continued. "You matter, boys. Both of you." Burt turned his gaze to Blaine, who looked surprised. "I know that in high school, sex is just...whatever, and I know that neither of you feel that way, but still...I don't care how mature and ready and _in love _you are...sex matters, and you matter. Don't either of you let the other do something you're not ready for. Communicate with each other. Make sure you're on the same page. You matter."

The room was silent for a moment. Blaine and Kurt stared at one another, unsure of what to say or do or _think. _Then Blaine turned to smile at Burt. "Thank you, sir. That really...it means a lot."

Burt nodded gruffly. "Well then, now that that's over with...I'd appreciate if you two kept the noise down. I had a long day at the garage and could really use a nap."

"Sure thing, Dad," Kurt agreed quickly. The boyfriends nodded goodbye as Burt stood up and exited the room. The older man muttered "You matter..." quietly before he left.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other once more, still unable to come up with the right words to say. Then, without warning, they burst out laughing.

"Oh my God!" Blaine gasped. "That was so _awkward_!"

Kurt clutched his side. "I thought he was going to kill us!"

"Us?" Blaine snorted. "I was sure he was going to tear me to bits for corrupting his only son-biological son," he added as an afterthought.

Calming himself down, Kurt quieted into giggles. Then he covertly ran his toe from Blaine's bare ankle up to the inside of his knee, causing the younger boy to shiver. "So...want to go upstairs and matter some more?"

* * *

><p>A hundred, thousand, million, billion, trillion-screw it-GOOGOL thanks to Jg Rox. I read this in her series of shorts "You Had Me At 'Sesame Street'"-which is totally awesome, by the way, I highly suggest you go read it-and needed to expand on it: Klaine gets caught singing "I Just Had Sex" by The Lonely Island featuring Akon. I changed Finn to Burt, and Jg, if that offends you, I'm really, really, really, really, REALLY sorry, but I just found Burt easier to write. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!<p>

So, shorter chapter this time, mostly because I started this a ten o'clock last night, and only finished it now because I have a crap-ton of homework to do and I'm procrastinating. Tumblr and YouTube are helping me do this. (By the way, if the Tumblr URL fallingintothedenouement is reading this, sorry for totally stalking and reblogging everything on your Tumblr today.) I hoped you guys liked it-I cracked up when I wrote Kurt's singing line, because, honestly, that is the LAST thing Kurt would ever sing about.

So I talked to my parents, like all of you amazing people told me to, and they're all for it! Thanks so much, guys! I'm going to make the video soon, and I'll tell you guys when I upload it. So now you'll all know what I look like. Crap.

Hm...not much else to say...other than I'm kicking around, like, six trillion awesome ideas in my head, and most of them are from your suggestions, and I LOVE that! Keep 'em coming, guys! I don't want this to end!

OH! I heard Darren's cover of "Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)" for the next episode of Glee, and while he kills it (as always), I'm upset that they didn't record the whole version. But, alas, who am I to complain, as Darren will be singing another Katy Perry song and dancing like a fool. Honestly, that boy should sing chick songs all the time. He always does such a better job.

Okay, now I'm really done.

I spilled iced tea in my hair while dancing today.


	42. Shut Up, Blaine

**Shut Up, Blaine**

With a sigh, his grin grew impossibly wider. His strong arms were laden with piles of slacks, skinny jeans, sweaters, jackets, belts, scarves, and one magenta fedora-none of which were for him. He lugged his load to the back wall of the men's section, already searching the dressing room lobby for a spare chair on which to lay everything down. Just when he found one, a voice beckoned him away.

"Blaine, dear, hand me the cobalt turtleneck."

Blaine couldn't help but oblige. He set the vast collection of clothes upon the seat of the chair, removed the item Kurt had requested, and moved toward the stall the older boy had claimed. With a knock, he gently pushed open the door.

"Here you go." He held out the hanger for Kurt.

Kurt tore his eyes away from the full-length mirror, where they had been critically examining a powder pink pair of jeans. "Thanks." He grabbed the turtleneck, and then gasped in horror. "Blaine! You didn't set down the other selections, did you? What if someone else takes them?"

Blaine barely held back an eye-roll. "Baby, Columbus may be bigger than Lima, but the male demand for yellow-and-purple plaid scarves is still low here."

"Whatever." Kurt stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. "Just don't lose any of my stuff."

"Yes sir!"

"Shut up, Blaine."

Blaine smirked, and then turned to leave. As he did, though, he was thoroughly distracted by something far more interesting that Kurt's to-try-on pile: his boyfriend's perfectly sculpted back as its muscles flexed and contracted in the process of removing the light blue cable knit sweater that previously covered it. The porcelain skin there stretched and contorted in just the right way to make a shock of _something _jolt through Blaine's body. Before he could stop himself, he stepped back into the room, allowing the door to swing shut with a soft click. He wrapped his arms around Kurt's slender frame, burying his face in the crook of the taller boy's neck.

"Damn."

Kurt instinctively leaned back into his boyfriend's embrace, sliding his hands over Blaine's arms until their fingers lay together on top of his bare navel. "Why, Mr. Anderson. How very uncouth of you."

Blaine responded by moving his lips from the juncture of Kurt's neck and shoulder outward, then back inward, then up to his ear. "My apologies, good sir. It seems that merely looking at you can bring out my more...animalistic tendencies."

Kurt flushed pink to the roots of his hair and down his chest. He suddenly realized that they were alone in the dressing room—hell, they were probably alone in the entire department store. He turned his head and hid his glowing face in Blaine's mass of curls.

Blaine immediately twisted his face upward and captured Kurt's lips with his own. In one swift movement, the shorter boy had the taller pressed against the mirror, both the sweater and the turtleneck laying forgotten on the changing bench. Blaine's mouth traversed the pale expanse of skin before it: neck, shoulder, chin, sternum, clavicle, pectorals, abdomen. His tongue worked into every groove of Kurt's flawless body, his hands tracing his sides, exploring the territory they'd claimed. Kurt could merely gasp in reaction, biting down furiously upon his bottom lip to stifle the stream of moans threatening to break loose. He almost lost himself when Blaine gently bit down on one of his nipples. Both of their pants were quickly becoming too tight for comfort.

Without warning, a voice sliced into their steamy heaven. "Yes, dear. _Yes_, dear. I know. I'm picking the colors you told me to. Elle, I am perfectly aware of my inability to dress myself. That's why I have you. Look, darling, I'm heading into the dressing rooms, okay? I'll call you back in a little bit. 'Kay, love you."

Blaine and Kurt froze. Their wide eyes met, Blaine's staring upward from where his head was bent close to Kurt's navel.

They were making out in a dressing room, and someone was about to come in and catch them.

Kurt scrambled out of the clothes he had been trying on and back into the pale lavender v-neck t-shirt and white skinny jeans he'd arrived in, while Blaine jumped up onto the changing bench to hide his feet from view. The whole time, they kept their eyes locked on each other, communicating as efficiently as if they had been speaking.

_What do we do, Blaine? What the hell do we do?_

_Calm down, Kurt. We wait._

_Wait for what? For him to leave? For the store to close?_

_No. For him to get to his stall. Then I'll sneak out and head into the store. After a little while, you leave obviously and grab the clothes in the chair._

_That is _not _going to work, Blaine!_

_Yes it is!_

By the end of the argument, the other man had entered his dressing room. With a smile, Blaine ducked under the door and out of view.

Kurt bit his lip. What if they got caught? Forget the embarrassment factor; they'd probably get kicked out of the store, and Kurt Hummel prided himself on never being barred from a clothing establishment. After a long minute, Kurt collected his belongings, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The other man was still enclosed in his room. Swiftly and silently, Kurt rushed over to the chair, snatched up his clothes, and darted from the changing area. He approached the check-out counter, searching for Blaine.

"Did you find everything alright?"

Kurt turned to face the rather attractive cashier. His dirty blonde locks fell sassily into his celery eyes. Cinnamon freckles dotted flushed peach cheeks. A thin teal polo covered his tall, straight frame.

"Yeah," Kurt smiled, gaydar pinging like a metal detector in his father's garage. "Thanks."

"So..." The guy—Neil, by the nametag fastened to his shirt—began to ring up Kurt's purchases. "Are you from around here?"

Kurt wondered for a moment if maybe this Neil was hitting on him, but then chided himself for being so presumptuous and egotistical. He didn't even know for sure that this guy was gay, and if he was, that he was interested in Kurt. "No, actually. I'm from Lima."

"Oh." Neil sounded genuinely disappointed. "I haven't heard of Lima. Small town?"

Kurt laughed humorlessly. "Oh yeah. Microscopic."

"I bet they don't really like gay guys up there."

Kurt froze. _That answered _that _question. _"No, not really."

"You should consider moving to a larger city!" Neil's bright green eyes were suddenly alight with excitement. "Okay, granted, Columbus isn't the most metropolitan of cities, but still, people are more...broad-minded here than in small towns like Lima."

The taller boy's enthusiasm was infectious. "Well, actually, I plan to move to New York once I graduate high school."

Neil sighed. "Oh man...New York. That's like a dream for guys like me."

"What do you mean?"

Neil flushed deeper pink. "Oh, well, I don't have a lot of money, and I have to work to help out my parents. Life in the Big Apple just isn't all that feasible for me."

"Nonsense!" Kurt laughed, leaning over the counter to pat Neil's hand encouragingly. "If you can work your way up in a store like this—" He gestured about the department. "—you can move yourself out."

Neil flashed a brilliant smile. "That's really nice. Thanks..." He trailed of questioningly.

"Kurt."

"Kurt."

* * *

><p>From across the department store, he watched the whole scene play out before him. After realizing that he'd left his lights on, he had rushed out to his Chevy to save the battery. Upon his reentry into the store, he saw the gut-wrenching display: the love of his life, so easily, so obviously, so <em>shamelessly <em>flirting with some tall, pulchritudinous blonde. They laughed with each other, smiling wide and wrinkling their noses adorably. Though he could see Kurt's face all that well, he _could _watch this usurper—for lack of a more dapper term—_eyefuck _his boyfriend.

Then it happened. Kurt reached out and _touched_—touched!—that Ken doll of falsity and lies and deceit.

Blaine felt heartbroken. How could Kurt be so...so...so _adulterous_—and right in front of him! He took one angry, sorrowful step forward before freezing, mentally facepalming.

He was such an _idiot._

How could he think, even for a _moment, _that Kurt—sweet, chaste, gentle, kind, loving, perfect Kurt—would do something so wicked as flirt with another man? The thought itself was treasonous; Blaine _knew _Kurt better than that, and certainly trusted him so.

He didn't, however, trust the look that the Calvin Klein wanna-be was giving his boyfriend.

With an almost pitiful smirk, Blaine strode over to the talking boys, wrapped his arms around Kurt, and pressed his lips firmly against the taller boy's porcelain neck, just as he had in the dressing room—albeit it a little more forcefully and pointedly.

Neil's eyes blew wide with shock. Kurt, melting easily into Blaine's body, noticed this. "Neil, this is my boyfriend, Blaine."

Neil stammered out a nervous hello. Lips still attached to Kurt's skin, Blaine glared upward, nodding slightly in reply.

"Your—uh, your—your total is one—one fifty-eight thirty-two." Face bright like the sun, Neil shakily tapped at the keyboard of the computer in front of him.

Nonchalantly nudging Kurt's credit card out of the way, Blaine slid his own black debit card through the reader, signing his name into the screen. "This is _your _shopping trip, Kurt, which means _I'm _paying."

Kurt rolled his eyes and huffed, but didn't argue. He knew that it would've taken him a hundred shifts at Hummel Tire & Lube to pay off that bill. He gathered his many bags and waited for Neil to hand Blaine his receipt, laughing silently when the boy behind the counter would not meet the steady gaze of the one in front of it. Then he linked arms with his boyfriend and waved goodbye to Neil. "Don't give up your dreams, you hear me? You can make it!"

"Thanks," Neil mumbled, still deeply embarrassed.

The couple made their way to Blaine's convertible. Kurt tossed his bags into the back seat, then turned to face his rather cocky boyfriend. "You." He narrowed his eyes accusatorily. "You just scared the ever-living daylights out of that poor guy."

Blaine shrugged, unperturbed. "He was flirting with my man." He spun around and waltzed to the driver's side of the car.

"Oh no, mister!" Kurt gesticulated wildly, climbing into the Chevy. "That was totally unnecessary."

"Hm...I have to disagree with you on that one, babe." Blaine settled into his seat, retrieving his pink Wayfarers from the dash and setting them on his face, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. When he deemed himself presentable, he look at his irked boyfriend beside him. "Look, he was being inappropriately forward with a taken person. He deserved to be knocked down a peg or two."

"Or theory number two...you were jealous."

The haughty grin on Blaine's face faltered. "Fine." He rolled his eyes at Kurt's expression of smug triumph. "I will admit...the green-eyed monster got me—for a moment! And then..." He trailed off, smiling to himself.

"What?"

Blaine looked back up at Kurt. "But then I realized that I trust you. I trust you to be faithful, and safe, and true. I trust you to be able to flirt with a guy, but never cross any kind of line. I trust you to tell me if you're interested in someone else, instead of making me find out on my own. I trust you, Kurt. It's as simple as that." He paused. "Now, that being said, I didn't trust that _Neil _guy one tiny bit. So I taught him a lesson about flirting with strangers."

Kurt laughed, and then leaned over to press a kiss to his silly boyfriend's forehead. "I suppose if we're making confessions here...he _was_ kind of hot."

"That's it—out of the car."

"Shut up, Blaine."

"Okay."

They touched their lips together for a moment, smiling through the kiss. Then they broke apart and giggled.

"Onto the next store?" Blaine inquired breathlessly.

"Onto the next store."

* * *

><p>Howdy! So...here you go. A little smut, a little jealous!Blaine-what's not to love?<p>

I had a lot that I planned on saying in the A/N, but...yeah. It's gone. I've got nothing.

EXCEPT! Major shout-out and VBH and all that jazz to cloudysock. Girl, reading your reviews and PMs always brightens up my day, because I usually get them during AP Art History, which is right after AP US History, which is the bane of my existence, and your hilarious awesomeness just makes everything better. Never stop being you!

Also, I'm about to record my Coming Out Day Challenge Response Video, so when it's up on YouTube, I'll post a like to my Tumblr, and make an announcement on the bottom of my next chapter, so keep a look for that.

I really love you guys. All of you. 'Cause you are beautiful. Don't forget that.


	43. Time

**Time**

The clock on the nightstand read 11:43. A pickup truck with a faulty muffler rumbled down the street in front of the house. The whirring of an overhead fan blanketed the undulating silence. The occasional ruffle of sheets caused no one to stir. An endless, laborious day of mechanic work left three males deep in slumber, the singular woman of the household joining them easily.

It came as an unwelcome shock, therefore, when the iPhone charging on top of the bedside table buzzed vexatiously upon the wood. A glasz eye creaked open, iris immediately contracting painfully in the sudden light emanating from the device. A lethargic hand snaked its way from under one thin sheet, fumbling for the phone. It lifted the gadget, and the tired eye read the contents of the blue box shining prominently from the center of the screen.

**Blaine  
><strong>Go to your window. LTT

Kurt's slow brain took a long moment to process this request. Blaine...wanted him...to go to his window? This made little sense to his languid mind, but he swung his legs inch by inch onto the floor. He stood and shuffled to the window like a zombie, lifting the frame as quietly as he cared to move. His wild brown locks preceded his hand outside.

"Hiya, Kurt!" Kurt merely blinked in response to Blaine's jubilant, albeit soft, outburst. "Um...can you let me in?"

After an awkward, pregnant pause, Kurt finally spoke. "Blaine, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Of course I do! It's..." The younger boy consulted the rather expensive watch on his left wrist. "...eleven fifty-one. We need to hurry up—it might go live soon!"

Kurt _desperately _wanted the conversation to be over so he could return to sleep. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, "What is going live?"

It was Blaine's turn to sigh—but where Kurt's was frustrated and tired, Blaine's was exasperated and impatient." "Pottermore, Kurt! Now let me in! Please?"

There were so many questions Kurt wanted to ask—_What is Pottermore? What do you mean _go live_? Why the hell am I awake right now?_—but he merely nodded once and retracted his head from the window, which he shut behind him. He slid his leaded feet into silk slippers and scuffed from his room downstairs, careful to make as little noise as possible. He was starting to really wake now, and could appreciate the fact that he was about to sneak his boyfriend into his house in the middle of the night right under his father's overprotective nose. He knew that they wouldn't do anything exceptionally libidinous, but the excitement of breaking such a fundamental rule as _no sleepovers without permission _both frightened and exhilarated him. By the time he reached the door, he was fully coherent, and thus wrenched it open with silent enthusiasm.

With a wink, Blaine ducked inside, closing the door slowly behind him. Before Kurt could inquire into Blaine's presence in his house at such a late hour, the younger boy grabbed the older by the hand and led him swiftly upstairs, his computer bag dangling heavily from his right shoulder, shutting the door behind them. He charged over to Kurt's tousled bed and jumped atop it, simultaneously sliding his laptop from its case.

Kurt still stood by the door, once more thoroughly confused. "Um...babe...?"

Blaine's sickeningly excited face glanced up from the glow of the Dell. "Yeah?"

Kurt bit his lip. "It's not like I'm not glad to see you or anything, but...what the _hell _are you doing here?"

With a sigh, Blaine finished typing in his password and turned his attention fully to his sleep-deprived boyfriend. "Okay, I was going to talk to you about this, but I figured you wouldn't care, so I was going to do it with Wes and David, but Wes got in yesterday, and David's great-aunt just died, so he had to go to Cincy unexpectedly Saturday night, so I was going to do it by myself, but that's so depressing, so I thought maybe you'd still be up moisturizing or something, so I came—"

"Blaine!" Kurt barely kept his voice in a low register. Though exasperated, he couldn't help but feel amused by the puppy-dog expression that graced Blaine's face. He made his way to the bed and perched next to Blaine upon it. "Okay, what in the name of Gaga are you talking about?"

Choking back a frustrated groan, Blaine replied, "I'm talking about Pottermore, Kurt. It's an interactive online _Harry Potter _reading experience, and registration is open for one week, starting yesterday, for beta testers—special fans who complete a quest and can then gain access to the site to tweak it and such."

Kurt was silent for a long moment, and Blaine grew nervous. Then, without warning, the taller boy doubled over in the quietest giggles he could manage. "So," he gasped, clutching his sides. "...you're telling...me...that this..._freak out_...is all about...oh Gaga..._Harry Potter_?"

Blaine's hazel eyes flashed in annoyance. "This is not a _freak out_, Kurt. This is very important. I _have _to get in, Kurt. I have to."

Once he had regained himself, Kurt leaned in and kissed a surprised Blaine full on the lips. "I love you, you absolutely insane nerd."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later found Blaine and Kurt cuddled under a single sheet watching the pilot episode of the BBC hit <em>The Adventures of Merlin<em>. They took turns throwing pieces of the popcorn Kurt snuck downstairs to heat up into each other's mouths as Blaine explained things to Kurt.

"Okay, so that's Gaius," he said, pointing to an old man in tattered robes.

"And he's the physician?" Kurt inquired through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you!" Blaine exclaimed, tousling Kurt's hair. Normally the older boy would have protested vehemently to such an act, affectionate or otherwise, but since he'd asleep less than an hour prior, there was no point in objecting. Blaine gestured to another character. "And he is...?"

Kurt inspected the thin young man with large ears and light, triangular eyebrows. "A-freaking-dorable, that's what he is." He squeaked when Blaine tossed a handful of popcorn into his face.

"Wrong answer," Blaine shot back. "That's Merlin."

"I know that," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. That's when he noticed it. "Wait..." He looked back and forth from Blaine to Merlin. "His eyebrows..."

"Huh?" Blaine asked, furrowing his own.

"They're shaped just like yours! Only, you know, less bushy."

Blaine crossed his arms and sunk into a pout. "Stop making fun of my birth defect!"

"Now now," Kurt murmured. He leaned forward and placed a soft, tender kiss on each of Blaine's pointed eyebrows. "Your birth defect makes you perfect."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine muttered, "Cheeseball." Then he captured Kurt's lips with his own. Before things could get too heated, however, he took a peek at the time in the lower right-hand corner of the laptop screen. Then he leapt back with a quiet yelp. "Kurt! It's twelve fifty-three! The next clue might be up in a minute!" He nudged Kurt to the side as his hands flew to the keyboard.

Kurt fell back into the pillows, unable to believe he was just figuratively cockblocked by a _website._

* * *

><p>Within the hour, Kurt was fast asleep, his head lolling against Blaine's chest, the younger boy's arm around his shoulders. Blaine, too, as much as he hated to admit it, found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He kept himself preoccupied by scrolling through his Tumblr dashboard and reblogging the funniest <em>Harry Potter<em> and Starkid posts, fighting the fatigue that threatened to swallow him whole. Unfortunately, he could only battle with biology for so long before he, too, succumbed to sleep.

And two o'clock passed him by.

When he awoke again, the first thing he saw was the time: 3:44. "Crap!" He shot up, knocking Kurt sideways.

"Gah!" the sleeping boy squeaked, his bedhead even worse than it had been at the beginning of their evening. "Blaine, what the—?" He stopped when he noticed the state his boyfriend was in. His fingertips flew across the keyboard while his eyes, encased in black-rimmed glasses instead of contacts for once, zoomed every which way, desperate for information.

"I missed it," Blaine muttered insanely, almost like a mantra. "I missed it. I missed it."

"Oh sweetie." Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You can always try against tomorrow—"

"Boo-yah!" Blaine erupted, causing Kurt's jaw to slam shut.

"Sh!" Kurt cautioned, massaging his face as he cast a furtive glance at the door. "What happened?"

Blaine turned to him, his eyes alight with excitement once more. "I was reading yesterday's post! I still have time!" That's when he looked at the clock. "Two minutes!"

Kurt watched as he navigated the Internet with renewed fervor. Instead of questioning his boyfriend's obsessive antics, he leaned back into his pillow, smiling indulgently.

"_It's up_!" Blaine read the clue aloud. "'What is the number of the chapter in which Professor McGonagall cancels the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff? Multiply this number by forty-two.'" Without another word, he leaned down and removed a book from his bag: _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. _

"Seriously, Blaine?"

Blaine ignored his boyfriend's derisive inquiry and flipped madly through the pages. "Ah-hah," he breathed. He typed his answer at the end of a URL and finally found it—the coveted magical quill. With a shaky hand, he clicked on it once, and there it was: the Pottermore Beta Tester Registration screen. He breathlessly filled in his information, internally rolling his eyes when he was asked how many books he'd read and how many movies he'd seen—_um, _all _of them_? He chose one of the usernames provided—SickleOwl68—and clicked Enter.

It was done.

He was in.

"Kurt," he whispered. "Kurt, look—" He turned to celebrate with his boyfriend, but the other boy was nearly asleep. Instead, he surfed over to his email, reveling in the sight of his latest message, the confirmation from Pottermore—not quite like a letter from Hogwarts, but pretty damn close.

That's when he noticed his other new email.

"Ooh, look, a new chapter of one of my favorite FanFicitons!"

Kurt creaked an eye open. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of dork reads FanFiction?"

* * *

><p>Please don't hate me. I know it's been an eternity and a half since I've updated, and I'm really, truly, unbelievably sorry for that. My coursework has tripled in the past few weeks, and the stress has gotten so bad that, after bursting into tears during dinner last night, I was forced by my mother to take the day off of school today. So I took that time to give you this, not that that makes up for my horrible, inexcusable lack of updating in the past few weeks.<p>

So, obviously, this chapter is about Pottermore. If you don't know what Pottermore is, I'm not going to explain it to you; I tried explaining it to the boys in ROTC, and it just didn't work. (I also tried explaining ships to them, but it was like talking to a wall.) SickleOwl68 is my Pottermore username, so feel free to friend me. There is a Joe Walker reference in here, and if you can find it, you get a super VBH for being as big of a Starkid fangirl as I am.

Okay, for those of you who have watched _The Adventures of Merlin_, have you noticed how triangular Colin Morgan's eyebrows are? They're just like Darren's! Then I figured, Colin Morgan is from Ireland, and Darren has Irish blood, and my eyebrows get really triangular when I raise them, and _I _have Irish blood, so I have deduced that triangular eyebrows is an Irish trait. And Eyerish trait.

I am so fucking clever.

Okay. So. "The First Time." I demand that each and every one of you PM me so that I can fangirl with you, because I have SO MUCH to say, but I don't want to say it here for those who haven't seen it yet. But I will say, without hyperbole, that I cried for an hour afterward. One. Whole. Fucking. Hour. Of course, it didn't help that I listened to "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol afterward, but no matter. Blaine and Kurt are my OTP, not just for Glee, but for every fandom EVER.

To those of you who are still waiting for me to write your prompts (**cough **Artist-Writer-Lover-Fighter! **cough**), fret not! I WILL write them...eventually... (Whoa..._The Amanda Show _flashbacks...) I will reiterate for you the time I DON'T have to be writing. I mean, I got to approximately fifty words before I gave up on NaNoWriMo, choosing instead to focus all of my limited writing mojo on this and TMWR. Well, really just this. (That reminds me...those of you waiting for an update of "The Moments We Remember"...don't hold your breath. You WILL die.)

I feel like I had more to say than this (probably because I mentally scripted a much longer apology, complete with begging and self-flagellation), but this is all I have. Feel free to check out my Tumblr, klainebowsandquirrelmort, for more of my crazy antics. (I spent over three hours on Tumblr today...so not healthy...)

I love you guys so much. Thank you for staying with me, and putting my with my inconsistency and my lunacy. I owe everything to you all. I'd never be the writer I am today without my support system here. Much love (and now tears).


	44. Sketches

**Sketches**

He watched amusedly as his boyfriend lifted himself lithely from the carpet with a huff. He saw the other boy toss his blue spiral-bound notebook down carelessly, and heard him yell "Coming!" in a thoroughly irritated tone. After returning the rueful smile thrown his way, he watched him leave the room, answering his father's summons. Now alone in the older boy's bedroom, he took the opportunity to investigate—after all, it wasn't often that he was left to his own devices in a space that was completely and utterly _Kurt. _

Blaine stood up, stretching his sore joints momentarily. He had previously been spread out on the floor, discussing August _Vogue _with Kurt. He stepped carefully over the magazine and made his way to Kurt's desk. He did not intend to snoop—Blaine Anderson respected privacy, thank you very much—but he _was_ curious as to what Kurt might like for the one-year anniversary of the day they met. (Thought that momentous day was in early November, Blaine was not naive enough to procrastinate shopping for his finicky boyfriend.) He smiled at the myriad of cutouts from various fashion magazines and the scathing and zealous comments he had applied to each on colored Post-It notes. He was sure that Kurt's system was color-coded, but he didn't even try to figure out what meant "I love this!" and what meant "This should be illegal." Old school papers, each with As and Bs written in the top margin—with the exception of one D, but Blaine noticed that the date on that precalculus assignment was the day that they exchanged their first kiss, and remembered sharing Kurt's temporary lapse in academic success—littered the left side by the computer. A few photographs, some of the two together, some with the New Directions, some with the Warblers, some with his family, were mixed in with colorful papers and ribbons, so Blaine knew he'd been scrapbooking recently.

He shuffled the documents around, grinning stupidly at the unequivocal _Kurt-ness _of the desk, until he spotted something that piqued his interest: Kurt's pink spiral notebook. He remembered Kurt doodling in it often, both at Dalton and later after he'd transferred back to McKinley. Blaine had flipped through most of Kurt's school books and binders at some point or another, usually out of boredom, but he realized then that he'd never seen the contents of the small pink packet of paper he now twirled in his hands. He knew he shouldn't open it—after all, this belonged to Kurt, and he deserved his private space—but curiosity crippled his better judgment. He allowed the book to fall open to a random page, and then gasped.

It was..._beautiful._

Kurt had sketched dozens of outfits and ensembles on figures of men and women throughout the notebook, and his skill was superior to any Blaine had ever seen outside art museums. Every muscle, every facial feature, every fold in the fabric was expertly shaded, formed, and curved. Blaine waited for the models to simply walk off of the page and into the three-dimensional world before them.

The clothing designs were stunning. Perfectly cut tops of the most flattering shades of pink, blue, red, green hugged the feminine form delicately. Trousers and jeans subtly hinted at the masculinity of the men. Carefully chosen accessories brought out the green in her eyes or the red in his blond locks or the elongation of her fingers or the strength of his waist.

Blaine had no words. He had absolutely no idea that Kurt was such a gifted artist. He knew that Kurt aspired to work in fashion, but he had never seen the proof of his talent. Inexplicably overcome with emotion, Blaine's hazel eyes filled up with tears.

"Sorry about that, I swear my father will never learn how to use the iron—Blaine?"

Blaine turned slowly, finding an adorably confused Kurt leaning against the door jamb, inspecting him with concerned glasz eyes. He still held the pink notebook in his hands. He tried to look sheepish about being caught snooping, but his utter astonishment clouded any potential guilt.

Kurt spotted the object Blaine clutched, and he immediately blanched. "How did you...where did...why do you have that?"

"Kurt..." Blaine breathed. "This is...wow. I didn't know...they're so _beautiful_, Kurt."

"I know it's weird—wait, what?"

Still enraptured by the artwork, Blaine began flipping through more pages. "Your drawings, Kurt. They're simply...perfect. Why didn't you tell me you could sketch like this?"

Kurt slumped over to his bed, collapsing upon it and slinging an arm over his eyes. "It never came up."

Blaine finally ripped his attention away from the beauty in his hands and focused on the one laying on the bed. "Kurt..." He crossed over and perched beside his boyfriend, tugging his arm away from his closed eyes. "Baby, are you...are you _embarrassed_?"

Kurt shot up, eyes flashing. "Yes, _Blaine, _I'm embarrassed! That's so _weird_, drawing clothes and people and fashion and—just—UGH!" He stood up and paced back and forth, thoroughly flustered.

Gaping in disbelief at his boyfriend, Blaine was at a loss for words. How could Kurt honestly believe that his gift—was there anything else to call it?—was something that he should be ashamed of? Blaine thought that he should be selling his ideas and his skills to the most elite designers in New York and Paris and Milan. "Kurt, stop." The older boy continued pacing. "Stop. Kurt. Look at me, hey." Blaine crossed over to Kurt and placed his hands on his shoulders, effectively halting the boy's movements. "You have _nothing _to be embarrassed about. You should be _proud. _I know of people who would kill to have your talent Kurt—why'd you even take art class last year? You should've been _teaching _that class. These drawings—" He waved the notebook around to emphasize his point. "—are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen—made even more so by the fact that you, my gorgeous, wonderful, _perfect _boyfriend, drew them."

By the end, Kurt's eyes were brimming with tears. He threw his arms around Blaine and squeezed him in a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm glad you saw those; I'm tired of hiding them from you, and I really need your balanced male and female opinion on a few pieces."

Blaine laughed, his hot breath tickling Kurt's ear. "Sure thing, love."

Kurt pulled away and led Blaine by the hand to the bed. He gently tugged the notebook from Blaine's grasp and began rifling through the pages. "There's one thing I want to show you, since I'm coming clean today..." He found the sheet he was looking for and paused, placing his hands over it. "Okay, so, do you remember the day that you asked the Warblers for permission to serenade Jeremiah at the GAP?"

Immediately coloring, Blaine looked away and bit his lip. "Maybe."

Kurt smirked at his boyfriend's uncomfortableness. "Relax, Blaine. I'm not here to poke at the past." Then he fake coughed, muttering "Slut-pig!" as he did so.

Blaine shoved his shoulder. "Jerk."

Laughing, Kurt continued. "Well, _before _you requested a go-ahead to make a fool out of yourself and me, you caught me doodling in the notebook. And you asked me what I was doing, and I lied, of course, and said nothing. Well...this is that nothing." He lifted the book for Blaine to see the page.

Blaine's red face broke out into a grin. "Oh, Kurt..." His own heart leapt at the sight of heart on the page, the red arrows through the side and, more importantly, the "Blaine + Kurt" in the center. "You knew? Even then?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, Blaine. Even then. Ever since you grabbed my hand on the staircase. Not _all _of us are hopelessly unobservant, Blaine Anderson." He smiled when Blaine flushed again.

"You are amazing." Blaine snaked an arm around Kurt's slender waist, pulling the older boy in for a kiss. Then he smirked and stretched out on Kurt's bed, lying on his side. "Well, Kurt?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, looking down at his boyfriend. "What?"

"Draw me like one of your French girls."

* * *

><p>So, this was suggested to me three trillion years ago by Erinscan. I felt like it was strong in the beginning, fell apart in the middle, and utterly crashed and burned at the end. Maybe because I was watching the Tampa Bay-Tennessee game as I was writing. Hell, I'm STILL watching the game.<p>

Anyways, I'm terribly sorry (again) that it's taken me so long to update. I was grounded for two weeks, as most of you know, and am probably going to be grounded again when my mother discovers tomorrow that I have an F in AP Chemistry (again).

Okay, so I read _The Sidhe _by Chazzam twice this weeked. TWICE! It is my favorite FanFiction of all time. OF ALL TIME! (Sorry, CP Coulter. I still love _Dalton_ too!) I think I'm going to read TS again soon. It's simply...ASKDFHASFNWA;FJW;LKFJSDKFJ IT'S SO GOOD! And it makes me doubt my writing ability altogether, making me feel like a complete failure, but whatever.

Again, I am going to make my apologies for _The Moments We Remember. _I swear, I have chapter three written, and chapter four planned, but I am having the WORST writer's block about chapter two - and it's the biggest chapter! I don't know what I'm going to do; I've tried writing a whole bunch of time, but I sound SO INARTICULATE and dumb.

I've started a little side project (yes, another one, and I'm sorry!) and I may or may not post it sometime in the near-ish future or never. Yeah.

Well, I have to go watch the Pats game with my priests and my parents. I'll be worshiping at the feet of Tom Brady and Wes Welker, so if you need to contact me, don't.


	45. Skin

**Skin**

The day was winding down to a close. Cool summer breezes sent the uncut grass into a lazy dance and occasionally rippled the otherwise smooth, glassy surface of the pool. Though the sun hadn't quite sunk below the horizon, a nearly full moon hazily stood out in the cerulean sky. The padded lawn chaise the boys shared offered little warmth to combat the slowly chilling atmosphere, so they huddled close under a thin blanket. Their hearts thudded steadily against each other as they lay in a tangle of limbs and skin.

One boy, contentedly encircled by his lover's strong arms, traced silly patterns across the other's shirtless chest. He brushed the tips of his fingers along his clavicle, down his sternum, and across his light trail of chest hair. Once or twice he even got brave enough to tickle a tiny nub of a nipple, and immensely enjoyed the soft, sharp intake of breath the action elicited from his boyfriend.

It was in this exploration that he discovered them, patches and lines of slightly raised, smooth skin, contrasting subtly against the mild roughness of the rest of the torso. He found the first peculiar region atop the left ribs, then another just under the navel, a third on the side opposite the one he clung to, and two more on the clavicle. When he cracked a glasz eye open to investigate the anomaly, he saw that the slightly olive expanse of skin before him was littered with paler areas.

Scars. They were everywhere. Only a few were big enough to be obvious; the rest were small and so shallow that they were nearly invisible. Several were sneakily hidden by the smattering of chest hair that trailed along the torso.

And when he finally saw them all, Kurt's heart stopped beating.

Blaine noticed the sudden stillness of Kurt's fingertips, and frowned. "Love?" He tightened his hold around Kurt's body. "Is everything okay?"

Desperately fighting the tears that threatened to spill over, Kurt whispered, "How did...how did you get those scars?"

Now it was Blaine who froze. "Oh. You...you noticed those, did you?"

Kurt twisted his head to stare up at his boyfriend, whose uncharacteristically taut face shone beautifully in the light of the setting sun. "I don't want to...I mean, if you'd rather not talk about it...I'm sorry for even..." He allowed his miserable mumbling to trail off, burying his face into Blaine's side.

Blaine immediately pressed his lips to the top of Kurt's head, taking a long moment to bask in the intoxicating scent of the older boy's shampoo. Then he murmured, "There's a lot of stories behind those scars, some funny, most...not."

Kurt's grip around Blaine's torso tightened. "You don't have to—"

"No, Kurt," Blaine interrupted softly. "I do have to. I haven't...I haven't talked about this—any of it—in...well, ever." He took a deep breath. "Let's start with this one." He lifted his hand to gesture to a thick scar along his left ribs. "That's when I came out to my parents. Well, kind of. I came out to my mom a week and a half before I got this. My dad was furious when he found out that, a, I was gay, and b, my mom knew first." His voice dropped to a barely-audible register before he continued. "She got a fair share of scars herself that night. My dad...he blamed her for my sexuality."

A garbled, choked noise came from Kurt's throat, but he only managed to squeak out a "Baby..." before Blaine cut him off.

"Kurt...please...I really need to do this." Kurt nodded. "These ones here—" Blaine pointed out a twin pair of scars on his clavicle. "—are courtesy of the quarterback of the football team at my old school. Word had just gotten out that I was gay, and all of the jocks felt really betrayed. I was kind of one of them, you know? I mean, I was never a football player or anything, but I ran track for a bit, and I loved to discuss football stats with the boys in the locker room. When they all found out I was gay, they were convinced that I only hung out with them to flirt with and creep on and molest them. The quarterback and the kicker cornered me in the locker room after gym one day."

After another deep breath, Blaine pressed on. "The more shallow ones on my shoulders are from being shoved so many times, into lockers, onto the pavement, against metal surfaces. Day in, day out—my father, jocks, random kids who wanted a thrill. I became Westerville's punching bag." He paused, and a tiny smile spread across his face. "See that one near my right hip? I got that when Trent dared me to scale the roof of the dean's lodging one night. I fell off of the third story balcony, clipped a window-box on the way down, and landed in a huge hedge. Hurt like a bitch."

Kurt stroked each scar as Blaine described its origins. The last story, while humorous and rather typical of the Warblers, did not distract Kurt from the crippling sadness he felt on his boyfriend's behalf. He had forgotten exactly how much pain the younger boy had gone through before they met.

Suddenly the atmosphere grew impossibly tenser, and Kurt knew the worst story was coming. Blaine traced his fingers lightly over an enormous scar. He started on top of his left hip and travelled upward and diagonally until he reached the opposite shoulder, near Kurt's nose. "This is from that night." Kurt didn't need to ask to which night Blaine was referring. "They came out of nowhere. The cut came from...it came from Adam. He was the one who...who touched you, at the mall, earlier this summer." Kurt remembered vividly; he'd rarely been so terrified in life. "I don't think the others knew he had a knife; they certainly seemed surprised when he took it out. It was hard to judge, though, because I was already seeing double by that point. I remember them going over to my...date, Andrew, first...that was pure agony, knowing I couldn't stop it...knowing I was next." Kurt's grip on Blaine's body was now so tight that the younger boy's skin began to turn deep red—but Kurt couldn't let go if he tried. "Fifty-eight stitches." He winced at Kurt's audible gasp. "Six weeks to heal...the scar is nearly invisible now, but for months...I couldn't even look in the mirror while shirtless, the panic attacks were too bad."

The pair fell silent for an interminable amount of time. Kurt seemed determined to burrow himself as closely to Blaine as physics would allow. Blaine, on the other hand, focused on keeping his breathing steady. While he didn't regret this unplanned excursion into his past, the familiar feelings of anxiety and fear were creeping across his skin. This time, though, he had a tool to fight the panic: the boy in his arms.

Eventually, Kurt had to speak. "I love you, Blaine." The words were mumbled against the side of the younger boy's bare torso. "I love you so damn much, and these scars?" He pressed his lips to as many pale patches of skin as he could reach. "I love them, too, because they made you the perfect man you are. If all of this hadn't happened to you, we'd never have met. So while I am so deeply, heartbreakingly, depressingly sorry that you had to go through such pain, and that you had to go through it alone, I'm glad it brought us together, and that it made you strong enough to help me with my baggage when I came along."

Blaine pressed his lips into his boyfriend's hair again, eyes closed and breathing level. "Thank you," he whispered.

* * *

><p>I prostrate myself at your feet, merciful readers! Please, spare my life that I may make amends for my unforgivable lapse in updating my humble story!<p>

Really, I feel terrible. I mean, I've uploaded, like, four one-shots, but not a single chapter in, like, two weeks. I'm really sorry. BUT GOOD NEWS! I have three more days of school and then TWO WEEKS to cram as much updating in as possible.

BLANGST! SO MUCH BLANGST! WHY DO I TORTURE MY BABY SO MUCH, DEAR READERS? WHY? I SEEM DETERMINED TO MAKE HIS LIFE A LIVING HELL! I promise, the next chapter will be so full of fluff that you will VOMIT. I promise.

So, apparently there is this Live Stream thing happening at one tomorrow (don't know what time zone, sorry!) concerning the use of illegal child labor to make Harry Potter chocolate, and the Harry Potter Alliance is putting together fan videos protesting this. Today, the chapter of the HPA in my school filmed ours, and it may or may not be included in the video. If you want to perhaps see me (not sure why you'd want to, but whatevs), I'm in the group called The Snitch Society.

I don't have much to say, other than I just accidentally made a totally inappropriate joke in front of my parents, and it was HILARIOUS! Also, my favorite words are "bombastic" and "." In case you were wondering.

LOVE YOU!

(As always, feel free to PM to fangirl over whatever.)


	46. Grease Monkey

**Grease Monkey**

The sweet scent of gasoline permeated the musty air. His quiet steps echoed off of the whitewashed plaster walls, but they were quickly drowned out by the metallic sounds of tools upon machine. He scanned the space around him, but saw no one between the half-gutted cars and tool cabinets and piles of tires. Easily deducing the source of the deafening noise, he slipped through the obstacles and located a rusty old Impala. Protruding from under the lifted hood of that Impala, he noticed gleefully, was a rather firm and delicious rear end enshrouded by tantalizingly dirty denim overalls. With a devilish grin, he approached the bent-over worker and wrapped his arms around his slim waist.

"Damn," Blaine breathed. "Only you can make _overalls _look irresistible."

Kurt squeaked and jumped at the suddenness of Blaine's advance, bumping his head against the underside of the Impala's hood. He turned, still in Blaine's arms, rubbing the back of his head. "Blaine, what is the matter with you?"

Pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead lightly, Blaine replied, "Sorry, baby. You just look so...damn."

Kurt smirked, choosing to quote Blaine's own sassiness. "Baby, please, I _always _look so damn." He sighed. "What are you doing here, anyways? I fixed my Navigator today—thank Patti, that strange click was really worrying me—so I don't need a ride."

Blaine shrugged, burying his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and inhaling his sweaty, manly aroma. "I thought I'd come watch you work for a while, and then maybe take you out to dinner."

With a gasp, Kurt leapt backward, slamming once more into the car. "Like _this_?" he shrieked. "I look _hideous_, Blaine! I'm covered in grease and my hair's sticking up at all angles and my skin, God, my _skin—you _shouldn't even be seeing me like this, Blaine!"

This did not please Blaine. Here he was, holding a virtual sex god in his arm, and the other boy couldn't even see it. Kurt didn't know how his grease-covered body, his stained clothes, his oily scent, his slightly husky voice washed over Blaine and sent blood rushing to every part of his body except his brain. He had no idea just what he _did _to him.

So Blaine resolved to show him.

Blaine attached his lips to the juncture of Kurt's neck and shoulder, sucking hard at the pale skin there. He grinned evilly at the choked noise that sounded in his ear. "Is anyone else here?" he murmured against Kurt's neck as he moved upward, leaving red marks in his wake.

Spluttering, Kurt managed to squeak out a _no_ before groaning at an embarrassingly loud volume as Blaine took his earlobe into his mouth. The younger boy's tongue trailed over Kurt's jaw line, reveling in that incomparable taste of _Kurt _with the erotically toxic tang of motor oil as he moved to the other ear, also sucking at that lobe.

Kurt shook from head to toe, desperately trying to hold in the slew of pornographic noises threatening to rip from his throat. "Blaine," he rasped. "I _work _here. My dad—"

"No," Blaine cut him off, shoving his lips roughly against Kurt's own surprised ones. "No father talk. Just you." He strengthened his grip around Kurt's torso. The straps of Kurt's overalls slipped off of his shoulders, revealing a dingy white ribbed tank top. Blaine growled and pulled Kurt around to the side of the car, slamming the taller boy against the doors and attacking his mouth once more.

"Blaine—!" Kurt could barely squeak out. His vision swam with pleasure, preventing him from noticing—or objecting to—Blaine throwing open the back door of the Impala, nor the same boy tossing him with a surprising gentleness onto the seat, nor the same boy climbing hungrily on top of him. All he knew was that suddenly he was horizontally oriented, and Blaine was _everywhere_.

"You." Kiss. "Have." Bite. "No." Suck. "Idea." Lick. "What." Bite. "You." Tongue. "Do." Kiss. "To." Suck. "Me." Blaine threw his head back and gasped wildly. Then he locked eyes with his thoroughly bewildered boyfriend. "You are _beautiful_, Kurt, _all _the time. You are beautiful and sexy and hot and irresistible and desirable and amazing and nothing you do could ever change my mind."

Kurt's fingers shot to the loose curls at the base of Blaine's head and tangled in them, pulling the younger boy's head down for a searing kiss. Both boys were fully aroused, but neither knew how they were going to stop before things got out of hand but _God _did they want things to get out of hand but they couldn't and they were pressing into each other and it felt so good—

"Kurt?" The boyfriends froze, blood suddenly rushing back to their heads. "Kurt? Are you still here?"

"Move move move move move!" Kurt hissed frantically, practically shoving Blaine onto the floor of the car. He quickly straightened his overalls, replacing the straps on his shoulders. His hands patted down his wild locks as best they could, and then Kurt scrambled out of the vehicle.

That's when he noticed two things: his father's shiny head approaching the Impala and the painful bulge in his pants. He rushed to look busy at a tool chest, remembering the myriad of marks and bruises Blaine left on his skin and praying to nothing that his father didn't notice.

"Kurt!" The boy in question looked up, trying not to seem sheepish or nervous. "What are you still doing here, bud?"

Kurt coughed once, trying to keep his voice level. "I'm just finishing up the work on Mrs. Beatty's Impala, Dad. I'm almost finished connecting her new carburetor."

Burt looked concerned. "Kurt. It's a Friday night in the middle of the summer. You should be out with your friends, not slaving away in your father's garage. I closed shop hours ago. Where's Blaine tonight?"

Kurt immediately colored, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to his probably frustrated boyfriend in the backseat. "I'm not sure. I think there's a family engagement or something." He tried to sound flippant, but his words came out as feverish.

Thankfully, Burt didn't seem to notice. "Just don't work too hard, bud. I know you're always telling me that, but it goes both ways. I just came back for my cell. I left it in my office. You need a ride home?" Kurt shook his head. "Well, I'll get out of your hair. Be home soon, okay bud?"

Kurt nodded. "I shouldn't be too much longer."

With a smile, Burt disappeared into his office. Kurt didn't have a moment to sigh in relief before his father emerged from the small room. Burt waved goodbye and headed for the exit, calling over his shoulder, "Bye, Kurt! Bye, Blaine!"

A beat, and then a muffled shout: "Goodnight, sir!"

Groaning, Kurt's elbows crashed against the top of the tool cart as he buried his face in his hands. "God damn it."

A few moments passed, and then two arms snaked around his waist again, this time in a far less sexual capacity. "Don't worry. He seemed fine with it."

Kurt slapped one of Blaine's arms. "Shut up. That was horrifying. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

Biting down on Kurt's earlobe softly, Blaine whispered, "Guilty as charged."

* * *

><p>So THANK YOU once again to the beautiful SeptemberLoveStory for assisting me in the crafting of this chapter. Seriously, you should have read the ending I had originally. It sucked. She gave advice (like always) and made it much, much better. I LURVE YOU!<p>

Well, I promised fluff...I gave smut...but that's a hella lot closer to fluff than angst! Unless you considering cockblocking angst...in which case...sorry...

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to Emma! She's my best friend, the Kurt to my Blaine, my brain twin, and my leader through this amazing fandom. I...(kind of totally forgot her birthday yesterday)...so I'm saying SUPER HAPPY I LOVE YOU YOU ARE AMAZING PLEASE FORGIVE ME YOUR EPIC CHRISTMAS PRESENT WILL MAKE UP FOR THIS I HOPE OTHERWISE JUST KILL ME WHERE I STAND EVEN THOUGH I'M SITTING to make up for it.

As always, reviews and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated, especially the latter; most of the suggestions I have right now are pretty angsty, so unless you want bad shit to happen to our boys, I suggest you get your cuddles on and give me something fluffy to work with.

I have one more day of hell - I mean SCHOOL - to endure before WINTER BREAK!

Love you guys!


	47. Horror

**Horror**

Every light in the house had been switched off. The only glow in the room emanated from the laptop screen. The computer balanced neatly atop a red comforter that covered two entangled bodies. Odd noises crackled from the laptop's speakers: screams and moans and squelches and splatters. Gruesome images flashed across the screen.

Kurt buried his face into his boyfriend's neck. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Blaine laughed lightly and reaffirmed his grip around Kurt. "It's just a movie, love."

Just then, a giant, slime-covered snake popped out from the storm drain by which a young boy was walking. The monstrous creature slithered after the terrified boy, who ran screaming down the block.

Kurt tried to burrow even further into Blaine's body. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I'm going to have nightmares for a week."

"Do you always react like this to horror flicks, or just ones with giant snakes?" Blaine didn't get a response. "Kurt?" The older boy merely mumbled in return. "What was that?"

"I said I've never watched a scary movie before!" Kurt snapped exasperatedly. He sighed. "Sorry. This just puts me on edge.

Blaine looked panicked. "You mean...I just took your horror film virginity?"

Silence.

Then Kurt snorted. "You're lucky my dad's not home right now, Blaine. He has selective hearing and would have only heard 'I just took your' and 'virginity' and then would have raced up here with his shotgun."

Blaine blanched at the thought, but pressed on. "I'm serious. I can't believe you've never seen a scary movie before." He paused the film on the laptop. "Why not?"

"Well, I didn't see the point." Kurt seemed to be avoiding Blaine's eyes. "People watch those movies with the intent of being scared, but by the time I was old enough to watch them..." His voice tapered off to a whisper. "...I was already living in a horror movie."

Blaine's hold on Kurt tightened every more. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't even think of that. I mean, I figured _Carrie _might hit a little close to home, but giant snakes aren't anything too relatable, so..."

"No, no, this is fine," Kurt interjected, smiling wearily at his boyfriend. "Actually, I kind of like it. I get freaked out, but you're here, and you make everything better. I love you for that."

Blaine bent his head down and kissed Kurt. Then he pulled back and grinned. "And that is never going to change." He leaned forward to press play.

Unfortunately, right at that moment, another giant snake creature popped out of nowhere, shrieking and hissing. Kurt yelped and jumped a few inches off of the bed, scurrying farther under the covers and deeper into Blaine's embrace. The younger boy's grin widened in delight, and Blaine rested his cheek against the top of his boyfriend's head.

_This is gonna be a long night._

* * *

><p>At four hundred eighty-one words, I'm fairly sure that this is my shortest chapter yet. The wonderful BananaGleek suggested this to me, but I couldn't really think of a way to make it longer. Sorry, girl. I hope I didn't disappoint you too much.<p>

LESS ANGST, RIGHT? Are you guys proud of me? I had like, two seconds of angst. Granted, the story was only five seconds long, so that's not really impressive, but still, Kluddles outweighed Klangst. So I'm proud.

'Twas the night before Christmas,  
>And all across the Internet,<br>No one really gave a crap,  
>For there was FanFic to be read.<p>

The charger was plugged  
>Into the wall with care<br>With hopes that the power  
>Would always be there.<p>

The children were nestled  
>All snug in their beds<br>Except for the teenagers  
>Who had gay love in their heads.<p>

And momma was sleeping,  
>And papa was too,<br>Yet not a fuck was given,  
>Except for for our two.<p>

Because what is Christmas  
>Without our Klaine lovin'?<br>This is why we write FanFic  
>And headcanon by the dozen.<p>

I go check my Tumblr,  
>Scrolling through with a flash,<br>And see some new updates  
>Right there on my dash.<p>

The moon on the breast  
>Of the fresh-fallen snow<br>Escapes all our notice  
>'Cause, FanFic, ya know?<p>

Then, what to my  
>Wondering eyes should appear<br>But the latest great chapter  
>Of the Fic I hold dear?<p>

So Santa leave presents  
>And fly off in your sleigh,<br>For I'll just read FanFic  
>When it comes, Christmas Day.<p>

Totally made that up on the spot! I feel like a fucking genius right now.

Anyways, Happy ! (Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Saturnalia, Yule, Festivus, and Newtonmas, in case you were wondering.) I want you all to know how much I love and appreciate all the support you've given me with AVKS and my other works. I positively adore the lot of you and would be utterly lost without you. After all, being a part of something special makes you special, right?

Much love this holiday season and always.

(My A/N was longer than my chapter. In case you wanted to know.)


	48. Tongues

**Tongues**

He stretched out on the couch, remote in his hands, flipping through channels aimlessly. The relentless pounding of rain upon the roof was accented by the harsh beating of the shower in the other room. He rolled his eyes and increased the volume of the television, still hoping to find a program more enthralling than a PGA golf tournament or a Discovery Channel special on honey bees. He glanced at the clock and clicked his tongue with impatience; it was nearly three, and he wanted to leave soon. Just then, the rattling pipes in the walls quieted as the shower shut off. Two minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened, and a boy emerged.

"Ciao amore, dov'è il tuo asciugacapelli?" **[Hey love, where's your hair dryer?]**

Kurt peeked over the back of the couch to gawk at his mop-headed boyfriend. "What?"

"Ti ho chiesto dove l'asciugacapelli è. Perché sei mi guardi così?" **[I asked you where your hair dryer is. Why are you looking at me like that?]**

Normally, Kurt would have been extremely delighted to watch tiny beads of water cascade from Blaine's blackened curls and streak down his chiseled jaw, but he was fairly distracted by the fact that his boyfriend was not speaking English. "Baby, what are you saying?"

Blaine's triangular eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Si dispone di un asciugacapelli, guisto?" **[You do have a hair dryer, right?]**

Instead of responding, Kurt stood and slowly walked around the couch. He gently placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "Are you speaking in Italian?"

The befuddled look on the younger boy's face deepened, and then was quickly replaced by shock. "Oh, man, I am _so sorry_, I didn't even notice, I was singing in Italian in the shower and –"

Blaine was rather forcefully interrupted by a pair of lips. Kurt pulled back after a moment and smirked. "Cela a été sérieusement chaud." **{That was seriously hot.}**

The confused expression returned. "I don't speak French, Kurt..."

"Je sais," Kurt replied with a shrug. "Je suis justs vous donner un avant-goût de votre médicament délicieuse propres." **{I know. I'm just giving you a taste of your own delicious medicine.}**

Blaine still looked as though he didn't fully comprehend what was going on, but he took Kurt's haughty expression as an encouraging sign. "Pensi che sia sexy quando parlo in italiano, non è vero? Beh, io penso che sia dannatamente sexy quando si parla in francese." **[You think it's sexy when I talk in Italian, don't you? Well, I think it's pretty damn sexy when you speak in French.]**

Kurt lifted a hand to play with the wet curls dangling on Blaine's forehead. "Pourquoi voudriez-vous déjà essayé de gel de ces boucles? J'ai rarement vu quelque chose de si attrayant. J'ai rarement une _personne _si attrayant." **{Why would you ever try to gel these curls? I have rarely seen something so attractive. I have rarely seen a **_**person **_**so attractive.}**

"Il tuoi occhi sono così belli," Blaine whispered, gazing up into Kurt's multicolored orbs. "Non ho mai sa bene di che color sono. Spero di non scoprirlo, però, questo mi dà solo una scusa perfissare più a lungo." **[Your eyes are so beautiful. I never quite know what color they are. I hope I never find out, though; this just gives me an excuse to stare into them longer.]**

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged him to the couch, pushing the younger boy down onto it and settling atop his lap. "Je ne sais pas ce que vous venez de dire, mais je parie que ce n'est pas ce que vous pensez en ce moment." Kurt bent down to suck a large bruise on the side of Blaine's neck. **{I don't know what you just said, but I bet that it's not what you're thinking right now.}**

With a shuddering breath, Blaine choked out, "Chi sei e cosa hai fatto con il mio bambino pinguino? Scherzi a parte, che cosa ti prende?" **[Who are you and what have you done with my baby penguin? Seriously, what's gotten into you?]**

"Vous êtes tellement irrésistible, Blaine," Kurt murmured in Blaine's ear, eliciting a shiver from the boy below him. "Je pense à toi tout le temps. Il me fait peur comment empêtré je suis en toi. Mais je ne veux jamais qu'elle se termine. Jamias." **{You are so irresistible, Blaine. I think about you all the time. It scares me how entangled I am in you. But I never want it to end. Never.}**

Blaine sensed that Kurt had just said something very serious, but he wasn't sure if the older boy was up for clarifying in English. He decided to profess his own feelings, in his own way. "Mi piace tutto di te, Kurt Hummel. Il tuo aspetto, la tuo personalità, la tue mente, la tua _te._ Fate ogni giornodegna di essere vissuta. Nulla mi farebba più felice di svegliarmi accanto a te tutte le mattine per il resto della mia vita, o per addormentarsi con voi le mie braccia ogni notte per il resto della mia vita. Vuoi de cheil mondo, la luna, le stelle a me. Ti ami più vita stessa. Tu _sei _la mia vita." **[I love everything about you, Kurt Hummel. Your looks, your personality, your mind, your **_**you. **_**You make every day worth living. Nothing would make me happier than to wake up next to you for the rest of my life, or to fall asleep with you in my arms every night for the rest of my life. You mean the world, the moon, the stars to me. I love you more than life itself. You **_**are **_**my life.]**

Inexplicably, Kurt's glasz eyes brimmed over with tears. Somehow, despite the language barrier, Kurt knew by the conviction in his eyes and the deepness in his voice and the steadiness in his grip on Kurt's hands that Blaine had just confessed his undying love for him. Sure, he had basically done the same thing not two minutes prior, but it still hit him like a ton of bricks. He curled up in Blaine's lap, snaking his arms around his boyfriend's neck and resting his head against his well-muscled chest. He could hear the rhythmic _thump-thump _of Blaine's heart, and it was sweet music to the ear pressed close to it. "Vous savez, nous étions censés aller à cette vente aujourd'hui, mais je voudrais vraiment plutôt juste câlinerici avec vous." **{You know, we were supposed to go to that sale today, but I'd really rather just cuddle here with you.}**

Blaine felt his eyes start to droop. The shower had cleaned the mud from his body, but he was still worn out from the early morning game of football he had played with some of the New Directions guys in the Hudson-Hummel backyard. "Amore, so che volevi colpire la presa questo pomeriggio, ma pensi che ci poteva stare e coccolare oqualcosa del genere? Sono così stanco, e ti senti stupefacente." **[Love, I know you wanted to hit the outlet this afternoon, but do you think we could stay in and cuddle or something? I'm so tired, and you feel amazing.]**

Neither of them realized that they were still speaking in foreign languages. They continued to murmur to each other as they fell sideways into a horizontal position on the couch, Blaine's arms still firmly locked around Kurt's torso. The sweet whispers soon faded off. They did, however, manage to mumble one last thing to each other before drifting off to sleep:

"Ti amo."**[I love you.]**

"Je t'aime." **{I love you.}**

* * *

><p>Start out with a shout-out to BananaGleek, who suggested a conversation in Italian and French <em>eons <em>ago. Sorry it took me so long!

As you should have deduced, Blaine was speaking in Italian, and Kurt in French. To help with that, the translations surrounded by these brackets [] are Blaine's Italian and those surrounded by these brackets {} are Kurt's French. As a late disclaimer, I speak neither Italian nor French. I plugged the English into Google Translate and copied and pasted what I got out. I don't really care if it's wrong. That's not really the point. So sorry if you're French or Italian and what you see here is wildly inaccurate. - \_/ My cup of care is empty.

Did I fool you guys? I bet you read the title and thought, "HELL YEAH, HOT MAKE-OUT SESSION!" But all you got was strange language. And Kurt giving Blaine a hickey. So it couldn't have been too disappointing.

So, again, Merry Christmas. I'm Christian, so I'm going to continue on with my theme of apathy and say happy other holidays as well, 'cause I really don't feel like listing them again.

I should be uploading my next chapter later on today, or perhaps tomorrow, so keep a lookout for that.

So...other than that...bye!


	49. The Art of Distraction

**The Art of Distraction**

He sighed impatiently, pen tapping the side of his notebook. He stretched out on the carpeted floor, kicking his bag out of the way. He yawned conspicuously, trying to grab the attention of the boy next to him, but to no avail. He began dragging his pen along the metal spirals of his notebook, but the offending noise elicited no reaction from his companion. He then lifted his feet into the air and kicked them back and forth, much in the manner of a teenage girl. The legs of his jeans swished against each other, and yet the sound made little difference. Starting to enjoy the challenge presented to him, he began humming, first so softly he could barely hear himself, and gradually growing louder. He ran through half of his favorites playlist before he couldn't take it anymore.

"_Kurt_," he whined, flopping over onto his back. "I'm _bored._"

Flipping over a glossy page in last month's _Vogue_, the older boy replied tonelessly, "Then go entertain yourself. I'm not your mother."

With a smirk, Blaine rolled over again, pressing himself against Kurt's side. "That you most definitely are not," he murmured, biting down gently on Kurt's earlobe. "Because if you were, _this_—" He sucked the entire lobe into his mouth. "—would be incredibly scandalous."

"This is Lima, Ohio, baby," Kurt retorted." It's _still _incredibly scandalous. Now, if you don't mind, I'm kind of busy." He nudged Blaine to the side.

Though rejected, Blaine was not deterred. "Love, come on! You read that issues _ages _ago. Why do you need to read it again?"

"Because," Kurt answered icily. "The next issue comes out tomorrow, and I want to refresh myself on the past month's styles so I can better predict September's, and thus be more informed for back-to-school shopping. Now, will you _please _let me read?"

"Nope." Blaine snuggled closer to Kurt again, pressing his lips to the older boy's neck. "I finished my summer work already, the game doesn't start until four, and Finn won't play Call of Duty with me because I keep kicking his ass. And I _really _don't want to go home." His mouth began to move downward, tracing Kurt's collarbone and sliding over to his arms.

Exasperated, Kurt shoved his magazine to the side and twisted his body, grabbing Blaine's startled face and crashing their lips together. He clambered on top of the younger boy and flattened his body above his, ensuring that every inch of himself was felt quite easily by the boy below him. He moved up and down languidly, smirking at the groan that ripped from Blaine's throat. With a smack, he tore his mouth away from Blaine's and rolled off of him again, leaving a shellshocked boyfriend in his wake.

"Now, will you _please _let me read in peace?"

* * *

><p>I know, I know, another short one. I apologize. I wrote this one in fifteen minutes this morning. Sue me. (No, please don't, I'm poor.) This was another prompted piece a la my home skillet SeptemberLoveStory. Love you, girl, and sorry for taking so long to write this.<p>

Okay, that makes, what three horny!Klaine chapters in a row? I was trying to get away from the Klangst, and I got as far as Klisses. *shrugs*

I already know what I'm going to write for the next chapter (and it's NOT horny!Klaine), so it should be up relatively quickly - maybe even today. But no promises. 'Cause I don't do promises.

Love you!


	50. Keep Quiet

**Keep Quiet**

With a sigh, he clambered out of the vehicle, already in a foul mood. He waited for his companions to join in him in the parking lot, and then the three slouched to the door—more accurately, he slouched, and the other two bounced. The shorter of the two kept shooting him apologetic looks, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They entered the classically styled building together. He immediately veered off to the right to slump against the wall beside an obnoxiously large potted plant, watching the other two as they wound their way through the nylon belts that created the queue. He waited as they slowly inched their way up in line, but since they'd started out as tenth, it took them quite some time to even make it to the fifth place. Groaning exasperatedly, he whipped out his cell phone and shot off a quick text. A moment later, a shockingly loud song echoed through the otherwise quiet bank.

"I want your love and  
>I want your revenge.<br>You and me could write a bad romance!"

He smirked as his brother tore through his bag to pull out his phone, blushing furiously. The other boy quickly read the text, and then turned to glare at him. "_Finn Christopher Hudson, why couldn't you have brought your lazy ass over here and told me that yourself_?"

Finn shrugged. "C'mon! The game starts in..." He checked the time on his phone. "...ten minutes! I can't miss it!"

Rather than reply, Kurt shot him one last glare and turned back to face the tellers. Blaine, on the other hand, snuck a quick thumbs-up at Finn, who grinned in return. _The kid's alright_, he thought, still smirking as Blaine tried to calm his livid boyfriend down. _Still not too sure about him joining McKinley, and Glee Club...nah, I'll worry about that when the time comes. _Finn heard several car doors slam loudly in quick succession outside, and turned out of vacant curiosity.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" he bellowed. In five huge strides he made it over to his brother and inevitable future brother-in-law and tackled them to the ground.

Not five seconds later, three enormous men, clad entirely in black from their ski masks to their boots, stormed through the front door, each with a shotgun and a canvas bag in his hands.

The first to enter raised his weapon and fired a warning shot into the air. "NOBODY MOVE AND NOBODY GETS HURT!" he yelled over the shrieks of the bank patrons. His voice was deep, angry, and entirely unforgettable. He nodded once to his companions, and the two circled around to block the bankers and tellers into one area. "Okay, this is how this is going to work. You all are going to lie down on your stomachs—much as you are right now, very good—and my associates and I will collect our money. Don't move, don't speak, don't call anyone, don't try to be a hero. Just stay calm, and this will all be over before dinner." He pointed to one of the tellers behind the counter, a terrified-looking woman in her late twenties. "You, miss. Would you please open all of your drawers?"

With a choked sob, the young woman complied.

And so the Lima Credit Union was robbed.

* * *

><p>Breathing heavily, he looked around as best he could, but his vision was annoying obstructed by the oversized teenager on top of him. He slowly inched his way out from under Finn's body. In doing so, he bumped into his boyfriend. He twisted his head so he could see the other boy more clearly, and his heart sunk at what he saw: Kurt's porcelain face was ashen, and terror struck his wide glasz eyes. His whole body shook and was pressed the floor in an attempt to take up as little space as possible.<p>

Shooting a furtive glance at their captors, all of whom were preoccupied at the teller counter, Blaine slid over and wrapped both his arms around Kurt as securely as he could. "Sh," he breathed as Kurt began to cry. "Hey, sh. We need to keep quiet, okay? Quiet and calm. Come on, now, sh." He buried his face in Kurt's hair, peppering his scalp with soft kisses.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, voice breaking even in its low register. "Blaine, what if...what if we d-di—" He stifled back another strangled sob.

After checking to make sure that the robbers weren't paying attention to the hostages, Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's ear. "Don't even think it. We are going to make it out of here, you hear me?" He paused, and Kurt nodded. "You are going to go home and hug your father and kiss Carole, okay? And Finn is going to watch Cinci lose to the Sox, and I am going to make you peppermint tea just the way you like it, alright? And we will snuggle in bed and watch _When Harry Met Sally _and everything will be okay. Got it?"

Before Kurt could respond, Blaine felt something cold and metallic jut up against his cheek. Twisting his head slowly, he found a black boot right next to him. He looked up to see the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly between his eyes.

"Listen, faggot," a raspy voice said from above. "I think you were told to _shut the hell up_." The robber, not the apparent leader, but a different one, thrust the gun against the bridge of Blaine's nose for emphasis. He ignored Kurt's panicked whimper. "Keep the fuck quiet and you'll have time with your come-bucket bitch when we're through."

Then, inexplicably, unexpectedly, angrily, _stupidly_, Finn opened his mouth. "Don't talk about my brother that way!"

An icy silence fell over the bank. Then the thief slowly turned his head to grin evilly at Finn. For a moment, the two glared at each other. Then, without warning, the robber's hand flew out and punched Finn in the nose. Kurt yelped, and Blaine tightened his hold on his boyfriend to keep him quiet. Blood began to flow from Finn's nose, and the boy groaned.

The captor stood. "Anyone else have anything to say?" No one spoke. "Excellent. Now keep your goddamn mouths shut, and this will all be over soon." He stomped away.

Blaine quickly tore a sleeve off of his shirt and used it to apply pressure to Finn's nose. "You okay?" he murmured, glaring at the three shoveling bills into their bags.

Finn nodded, but didn't say anything. He was growing paler by the minute. Worried, Kurt rolled Finn over, tilting his brother's head back to stop the blood flow. It had little effect, so Blaine kept his hold on Finn's nose firm. Throughout their ministrations, the boyfriends held hands securely, terrified to let go.

About three minutes later, the men in black charged toward the door, arms laden with thousands of dollar in cash and shotguns. Two left the building quickly, but the leader stayed behind momentarily. "Thank you for your time today, customers of the Lima Credit Union. We hope that you've had a pleasant experience and will bank with us again in the future." With a smirk, he turned and darted into the sunlight.

* * *

><p>All told, the entire robbery took just under eight minutes.<p>

The police had been summoned by a secret electronic trigger behind the teller counter, but due to a massive accident on the freeway, they were delayed in their arrival. They pulled up with some ambulances less than two minutes after the robbers left. None of the bank patrons or workers had gone home yet; most were too shocked to even move.

Finn was the first person the paramedics attended to, as he was the only one bleeding. Kurt and a young woman were ushered out next, both because they had slipped into panic attacks. Blaine wouldn't allow the EMTs to move Kurt; instead, he lifted his quivering boyfriend into his arms and carried him to an open ambulance, laying him down on the waiting stretcher. He squeezed Kurt's hand until the older boy's breathing approached a normal rhythm. Then he allowed Kurt to throw his arms around his neck and sob.

"I thought you were going to die," he choked out, clutching the back of Blaine's shirt. "I thought he was going to shoot you, and I didn't know what to do, because I can't live without you, Blaine, I _can't_—"

"Sh," Blaine whispered in his ear, rubbing Kurt's back soothingly. He continued to make reassuring noises and murmur "I love you" softly as he waited for Kurt's wracking sobs to diminish. When they did, he pulled back and pressed a searing kiss to Kurt's lips, unconcerned with the fact that hundreds of victims, police, paramedics, reporters, passersby, and family were surrounding them. He had Kurt, and they were alright.

A minute or so later, the two heard a shout over the din that blanketed the area. "KURT! FINN! BLAINE!" The boys turned to see Burt and Carole running toward them. Before they could say anything—and before Kurt could reprimand his father for putting unnecessary strain on his heart—they found themselves engulfed in a massive hug. Two voices babbles away in their ears.

"Oh, boys, we were so _worried—_"

"You didn't come home, and we saw the report on the news—"

"But why are you on a stretcher?"

"I'm gonna find those sons of bitches and teach them not to mess with _my _family—"

"Where's Finn?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"DAD! CAROLE! I CAN'T BREATHE!"

The two adults backed off, slightly sheepish but ultimately still worried. "I'm going to go find Finn," Carole said. She swiftly kissed her stepson and his boyfriend on the cheek and sped off to the other ambulances. Burt balanced himself on the opposite side of the stretcher from Blaine. "You okay, bud? Why're you on this thing?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Panic attack, Dad. Not that big of a deal."

"It _is _that big of a deal," Blaine corrected, bringing Kurt's knuckles to his lips and covering them with soothing kisses. "You scared the crap out of me, love. Your breathing was off, and you looked so...so _terrified_. I honestly can't remember being more worried about someone in my life."

Rolling his eyes again, Kurt smiled wryly. "Don't worry about me. Worry about the fact that some jerk shoved a gun in your face."

"_What_?" Burt leapt to his feet, but the teenage boys eased him back down. "Dad, stop, you're going to give yourself another heart attack," Kurt chastised him. "I was freaking out, and Blaine was comforting me, and..._he _heard him, and..." Kurt took a shuddering breath and buried his face in Blaine's neck once more.

Astonished, Burt clapped a hand on Blaine's shoulder. The boy looked up at him in surprise. "Thank you," Burt mouthed, and Blaine nodded. Burt then cleared his throat. "Alright, I'm to go find Carole and Finn, make sure they're alright. You two good here?" Both boys murmured in assent. "Good." With a last smile at the boyfriends, he disappeared into the fray.

* * *

><p>Once they gave their statements to the police with promises to be on call in case more information was needed, the family was allowed to go home. Once there, Carole forced Burt to go to bed early, fearing for his heart, and Finn collapsed upon the couch, hoping to catch the last few innings of the game (Cinci was in fact being mercilessly pounded upon by the Sox) and nursing his thankfully unbroken but still-sore nose. Blaine tucked Kurt into his bed and rushed back downstairs to make peppermint tea, as he had promised in the bank. He returned soon enough with two mugs of the hot beverage, and they curled together under Kurt's comforter. Instead of watching <em>When Harry Met Sally <em>on Kurt's laptop—after all, the two could recite the film from memory—they simply lay together, sipping their tea and never taking for granted the fact that they were together, just keeping quiet.

* * *

><p>MY BBS! MY CREYS! Well, I told you no more horny!Klaine...so I brought back Klangst. It's really an either-or with me. Sorry. Plus, longer, right? Why is it I can only go into detail when I'm making terrible things happen to our boys? Am I really evil inside?<p>

That's a dumb question.

Of course I am.

So...big news...

FIFTIETH CHAPTER!

I'm actually tearing up right now.

I started this story with "The Oak," which I wrote at approximately eleven o'clock at night on August 1, 2011. One hundred forty-seven days later, just under five months, I have written forty-nine other chapters. And it's all thanks to you, to the amazing individuals I have come to know and love in these past one hundred forty-seven days. I need you to know just how much your words of support, appreciation, humor, and critique have meant to me, and how they have affected my writing. I have never felt this confident or accepted or appreciated or _loved_ as I have since starting _A Very Klaine Summer_. I know that whenever this story ends (and that's a long way off, believe me), I will take with me the friends I've made and the lessons I've learned.

Thank you so much.

This one's for you.

Because I really, truly love you.


	51. Waiting

**Waiting**

The rhythmic hum of rubber on asphalt normally lulled him into a steady slumber, but he fought the fatigue in favor of burning curiosity. He gazed out the window to his right, the heel of his palm digging into his cheek, watching the world pass him by in a blur of green and yellow, but it didn't interest him. He decidedly ignored the radio playing softly to his left, as well as the melodic voice that sang along with it. No, he was far too frustrated to join in on such frivolity as _singing_. He sighed heavily, mostly to convey his displeasure to his companion, who irritatingly paid him no mind. Billboard after billboard flashed by, each one marking another step closer to their destination.

Except he had no idea where that destination _was._

Another half an hour passed by in brooding silence, save the crackling radio and the smooth vocals of the driver, and he couldn't take it anymore. He spun his head around and snapped, "Can you _please _just tell me where we're going?"

The other boy simply smirked and shook his head, increasing the volume at which he sang along to a Bruno Mars song.

He groaned and banged his head against the window. _This is going to be the longest road trip ever._

* * *

><p>Several hours later, after drifting in and out of fitful sleep half a dozen times, he sat up straight when the car veered off to the right, getting onto the off-ramp. He looked at the large sign in front of them.<p>

**Welcome to ****Cincinnati**

He began to bounce in his seat, humming with excitement. He knew that it was fruitless to inquire into their arrival in the city, and that he was at the mercy of the haughty driver beside him.

The car navigated through city traffic, stopping and starting often, until it reached a Hampton Inn. The driver pulled into a spot and turned off the car. Then he wordlessly exited the vehicle and walked around to the trunk, which he popped open with the fob. As the impatient passenger scrambled out to help him, he began slinging overnight bags onto his thin shoulders. The two carried their belongings to the entrance of the hotel, one striding along easily, the other tripping over himself in his hurry

They approached the check-in counter, and finally the driver spoke. "Reservation for Hummel?"

The slight African-American woman behind the counter typed quickly on a keyboard. "Ah, yes, single bed suite?" She peered over her librarian-esque glasses at the two boys, clearly judging their motives for asking for only one bed.

Kurt smiled coldly, understanding exactly what was running through the woman's mind. "Yes, that's the one."

"Mhm," the woman sniffed. She finally ripped her disapproving glare from the boys and affixed it upon the computer screen. "Just the one night, then?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes."

A few more clicks at the keyboard, a couple of swipes of Kurt's credit card and of the keycards, and the woman was thrusting the cards toward Kurt. "Enjoy your stay," she all but sneered.

Kurt's cold smirk became positively icy as he snatched the pieces of plastic from the counter. He spun around and handed one keycard to Blaine. "Here you go, baby," he purred, loud enough for the homophobic woman behind him to hear.

Smiling appreciatively at Kurt's boldness, Blaine accepted the key and murmured, "Thanks, love." He wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist as the pair carried their luggage to the elevator. When they were safely enclosed in the small room, Kurt muttered, "Bitch."

Blaine laughed and pressed his lips to Kurt's neck. "Forget about her, love," he mumbled. "What floor are we on?"

Trying to keep his head somewhere in the stratosphere, Kurt examined his card. "Third."

Blaine punched the appropriate button, and then reattached his lips to Kurt's skin, wandering up and down his neck, across his jaw, over to the tip of his nose. All too soon, the metal doors slid open with an electronic ping, and the two stumbled out, giggling until they reached their room. Kurt deftly slid in the key and pushed open the door. He and Blaine collapsed into the room, allowing all of their bags to tumble across the floor. Blaine made sure the door swung shut behind them, and flipped over the top latch to keep it secure. Then he picked Kurt up in his arms, causing the older boy to squeal in delighted surprise, and jumped onto the single king-sized bed. Hovering lightly over his boyfriend, Blaine placed a searing kiss to his lips, his hands already making quick work of Kurt's sinfully tight shirt. When the garment lay unwrapped and disheveled upon the comforter, Kurt's hands flew to Blaine's and stilled them as they reached for the hem of the younger boy's polo. "Wait!"

Blaine froze. The two panted softly for a long moment, inexplicably out of breath. They tried to communicate with their eyes, but their thoughts were too scattered to get a coherent message across.

Kurt sat up, sliding himself out from under Blaine, who sat back on his haunches. "Baby, I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, Kurt, no!" Blaine grabbed Kurt's face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm the one who's sorry, so, so sorry. I know you said you wanted to wait, and I _knew_ that, but I didn't know why we were here, and you took me to a hotel, and it's _just us_, and I completely let my imagination get the best of me—"

Kurt shut Blaine up with a kiss. "It's _fine_, honestly. I didn't give you much to go on, did I? Besides, I know I said I wanted to wait, but..."

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. _What is he saying?_

"...maybe marriage is a little too far off." Kurt blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright red. "I'm not saying this weekend—honestly, Blaine, I'm not ready this weekend—but...maybe...sometime soon. When the moment is right. For us. Both of us."

Blaine gulped and nodded. "No, no, you're right, of course you are. And please don't feel pressured to move faster than you're comfortable with moving. I mean, yeah, I'd love to have sex with you. I've had more dreams about it than I'd care to count, and sometimes the thought of it clouds over my mind when I'm doing whatever. But I am most definitely willing to wait until you're ready. Because I'm not ready until you are."

The sincerity and plainness of Blaine's confession startled Kurt, whose blush deepened impossibly, now spreading across his cheeks and down to his chest. The thought of Blaine desiring him in such a way blew his mind. He pulled Blaine's hands off of his face and held them in his own. "Thank you, Blaine. Thank you so much. After everything...everything that I've gone through, it's really amazing to hear you say that." He realized that he had tears in his eyes, and he lifted a hand to brush them away furiously. "Look at me. This is supposed to be a fun weekend!" He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "We should leave soon." He swung his legs onto the floor.

Blaine looked horrified. "What? But we just got here!"

Kurt chuckled. "We have _plans_ for tonight, baby. If we want to get in, we have to get moving."

Interest piqued once more, Blaine followed Kurt around as the latter began digging through his belongings for a change of clothes. "Get in where? Where are we going, Kurt? Should I change? What are you wearing? Is it a fancy event? Where is it?"

"Blaine!" Kurt shouted, rounding on the boy, who smiled sheepishly. "I am changing shirts because _someone_ ripped mine off of me and wrinkled it. What you have on is fine. I'm going to go freshen up, and then we can leave, _okay_?" Blaine nodded solemnly. "Good." Kurt rolled his eyes and stalked into the bathroom.

Blaine collapsed on the bed. He was going to explode before they even got to the event.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Kurt's Navigator pulled up in front of Paul Brown Stadium. Thousands of young people flocked about the entrances, and dozens of signs told them why.<p>

_Katy Perry._

Blaine squealed in a manner reminiscent of a five-year-old girl. "Kurt, you brought me to a Katy Perry concert? Oh my God oh my God oh my God this is the best thing ever! Is it my birthday? No, wait, that's in February. Why are you doing this for me? I don't think this is our anniversary—oh God, is it? I can't even remember my own name right now—oh God, _Katy Perry_!"

Blaine was so busy babbling and bouncing in his seat that he didn't notice Kurt exiting the truck and circling around front to open the passenger door. With another embarrassingly high-pitched yell, Blaine tore off his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. He then threw his arms around Kurt's neck and squeezed tightly. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

Kurt laughed and hugged his boyfriend in return. "I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, too!" Blaine pulled back, eyes dancing in his delight. "Where are the tickets?"

Kurt pulled two rectangular pieces of paper out of his pocket. "Here." He handed one to Blaine. Then, before the younger boy could start babbling again, or heaven forbid _pass out_, he linked their arms and marched toward the stadium, dragging a giggling Blaine with him.

* * *

><p>"Kurt! Kurt! It's our song!" Blaine gushed loudly over the din in the stadium. He grinned as the artist on stage began dancing to the opening notes of "Teenage Dream." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hands and danced along as well.<p>

"You think I'm pretty  
>Without any makeup on.<br>You think I'm funny  
>When I tell the punchline wrong.<br>I know you get me,  
>So I let my walls come down,<br>Down."

Blaine moved through all the motions that he had when he first performed for the new kid spying on the Dalton Academy Warblers. Kurt laughed and blushed furiously as he remembered that day. The dancing boy was earning more than a few curious stares from concertgoers around them, but surprisingly, none seemed judgmental—in fact, most seemed quite good-humored as they watched the boys serenade each other.

"Imma get your heart racin'  
>In my skin-tight jeans,<br>Be your teenage dream tonight.  
>Let you put your hands on me<br>In my skin-tight jeans,  
>Be your teenage dream tonight."<p>

When the song finished, Blaine collapsed on Kurt, sliding his hands into his back pockets and locking their lips together. By the time "Hot 'n' Cold" began, they were still kissing.

"Thank you for bringing me," Blaine mumbled, pressing his cheek against one of the arms Kurt had snaked around his neck. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

"Anything for you," Kurt whispered in his ear. "Anything for you."

* * *

><p>...I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. Really, I don't. I write a horribly depressing, terrifying chapter to get away from horny!Klaine, and...here it is again. I have issues. My addiction to gay love has gotten wildly out of control. Please, please, someone prompt me with something I can't possibly turn into horny!time. PLEASE.<p>

Just as a disclaimer, I know nothing about Cincinnati, or Paul Brown Stadium. I _do_, however, know someone named Paul Brown. So this is very awkward for me.

I added the conversation about sex because, as we all know, Blaine and Kurt do _not _in fact wait until marriage to have sex (as much as I wish they had), and I try to stay canon. So sorry if that felt awkward or anything. I just needed to work it in here somewhere.

Also, I would like to at this time confess to the murder of SeptemberLoveStory. She foolishly told me her weakness (Blaine calling Kurt "love") and I have knowingly and purposefully added that element to my chapters ever since I gleaned this tidbit of information. My apologies to her family, but I have no regrets on the matter.

Oh! I suppose I should give credit at some point. loveconquers1 prompted that our boys go to a Katy Perry concert, and iWaldo prompted that they go on a road trip, so I combined the two together to come up with this mess. Granted, the road trip portion of the chapter was a little (or a lot) lacking, but whatevs. Artistic license and all that jazz.

I think I shall have popcorn for lunch.

Even though I just ate breakfast.


	52. Incomparable

**Incomparable**

He lounged on the couch, his boyfriend nestled in the V of his legs on top of him. His arms were wrapped around the other boy, and his fingers traced patterns on the back of his hands. His head was turned sideways, watching the program on the television. The volume had been turned up rather high, for the distinctive sound of metal on metal screeched from the garage, and the familiar hallmarks of a war-themed video game rang out from a bedroom upstairs. He winced at the laugh track on the sitcom, but grinned all the same at the funny punch line.

A few minutes later, he heard a light chuckle from below him. Leaning down to rest his chin on his boyfriend's forehead, he asked, "What's so funny?" The other boy just smiled coyly. "Oh, come on, you can tell me. What is it?"

"Just the irony," Kurt replied. He tipped his head back to grin at Blaine, who looked confused. "It's just, on this show, Neil Patrick Harris plays such a womanizer, when in real life..."

"...he's actually gay," Blaine finished. "Yeah, I get it."

Kurt sighed. "I mean, I get why the girls are always complaining to me about gay guys."

"What?" That struck Blaine as odd; normally the New Directions girls were overwhelming supportive of Kurt's sexuality.

Kurt sensed Blaine's disturbance. "Oh, no, not like that. Lord knows that they'd all be lost without my incomparable sense of fashion." Blaine had to grin at that. "No, they just gripe about how the hottest guys are always gay. I mean, look at NPH." He gestured to the screen with a dreamy look on his face. "The man is unbelievably _gorgeous_, and gay. I feel like this is just poetic justice for all the abuse we have to take from homophobes."

Blaine nodded and smiled weakly in agreement, but Kurt's statement just wasn't sitting right with him. Neil Patrick Harris was "unbelievably gorgeous?" Since when? Obviously, Blaine couldn't deny the man's attractiveness, but he looked _nothing_ like the performer. Neil Patrick Harris was tall and muscular with blonde hair that didn't look like as though he had stuck a fork in a light socket. Blaine was short and scrappy with wild dark locks and he sure as hell didn't look that good in a suit. Was that what Kurt wanted? Someone flashy and attractive? Someone who was the envy of girls and other gay guys everywhere? Someone who made all the straight guys either question their sexuality or suddenly need to hit the gym more often? Someone who—

"Blaine." The internal panic of the boy in question was interrupted by the soft calling of his name. He looked down to see Kurt peering up at him again, concern etched into his beautiful face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blaine mumbled, looking back to the screen.

Kurt wasn't having any of that. He tore one of his hands from Blaine's and reached up to grab his slightly scruffy face. "Hey now. You are upset about something. Was is something I said? Tell me."

Blaine sighed exasperatedly. "Well, it's just...you're right. Neil Patrick Harris is _gorgeous_. He's also the complete opposite of me! I mean, look at us! He's tall, I'm short, he's ripped, I'm skinny, he's pale, I'm tan, his eyes are blue, mine are hazel which isn't even a _color_—" His rant was cut short by Kurt's hand, which slid from his cheek to his mouth, effectively ending the babble. He watched as Kurt slowly twisted himself around so that he was kneeling in between Blaine's legs facing his boyfriend, the television show playing forgotten in the background.

"Now," Kurt began, voice level, "I'm going to let go of your mouth, and you're going to let me talk, okay?" He waited for Blaine to nod. "Good." He dropped his hand from Blaine's lips, and then used both of his hands to pick up Blaine's. "You are an_ idiot_, do you know that Blaine? No, let me finish!" He frowned when Blaine opened his mouth to argue. "Let me finish. You are so dumb. That guy—" Kurt pointed to the television screen, where Barney Stinson was trying to make yet another conquest in MacLaren's Pub. "—he can't come close to you. He may be _hot_, but _you_ are _beautiful._ Everything about you is impossible to resist." He smirked when Blaine's eyes blew wide. "Let's see...you're short?" Blaine nodded. "Well, did you know that shorter guys have better leverage?" His smirk widened when Blaine choked back a nervous squeak. "You're skinny?" Kurt trailed his fingers along Blaine's sides, squeezing his hips tightly. "I've felt you, Blaine, and I've seen guys in the locker room and all I can say is that they can't hold a candle to your musculature. You're tan? Do you know how many guys would kill for your color? It shows your exotic roots...and you know how attractive I find exotic things." He winked saucily, earning another shocked whine. "Your eyes?" Kurt's voice dropped to a whisper. "Damn, Blaine, your _eyes._ They're incomparable. I dream about them, you know." Kurt lifted his hands to the sides of Blaine's face, tracing the younger boy's eyelids with the pads of his thumbs. "They're so..._brilliant_, like you can see the world in them. They go on for miles, and they've got every single color in them. Sometimes I wish you'd never sleep just so I can stare into them forever." He did just that for a long time, gazing into those hazel orbs as though reading something from the irises. Eventually he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Blaine's lips. "There are a thousand other things about you that I love, Blaine," he mumbled. "Inside and outside. But if I said them all, we'd be here for quite some time, and dinner will be ready soon." He cocked a half-smile at his seemingly placated boyfriend. "All better?"

Blaine nodded. "Thanks," he whispered. He snuck his arms around Kurt's frame as the older boy settled back into his previous position. "I was just being silly."

"No worries babe."

A pause.

"Besides, if I were to leave you, it would be for Tyler Oakley."

* * *

><p>HAPPY NEW YEAR! I posted this when the clock struck midnight on the East Coast, so sorry if it's not New Year yet for you, or if you've been basking in the new light of 2012 for some time now.<p>

*le sigh* My love for gay guys knows no bounds. Kurt, Blaine, NPH, and Tyler, all in one story? Yes please. While writing this, I found it comical that Darren and NPH can look so different, and yet be so fucking irresistible.

And also unavailable to me.

*le sigh*

In case you were wondering, the show on television was _How I Met Your Mother_, which NPH stars on. It's my second-favorite sitcom (after _The Big Bang Theory_, of course!).

A little jealous/insecure!Blaine was prompted to me by MrMouseAndCheese (along with fifty or so other chapters I'll be posting soon!) and I had a ball writing it. Thanks!

Anyways, honor on you, honor on your family, honor on your cow, and may all of you survive the impending apocalypse. I will certainly miss you if you don't.

BREAK OUT THE BUBBLY! AULD LANG SYNE!


	53. Community Service

**Community Service**

The scent of warm winds blowing past beds of gardenias and lilacs could not mask the stench of Bengay and death. As the Navigator rolled through the parking lot, it passed intricate gardens with cobbled pathways, stone fountains, and flowers of every shape, color, and breed. A handful of Victorian benches lined the paths, but only two were claimed. The vehicle continued on, stopping in front of a massive colonial mansion. Sharply painted white walls reflected the mid-morning sun, much to the displeasure of the occupants of the swings and rocking chairs on the wraparound porch.

He parked the vehicle, apprehensive. Elder care centers always depressed him. Their residents were so frail and lifeless, and its workers so harsh and inflexible. He remembered visiting his own grandmother in a nursing home at a young age; the other elderly women pinched his cheeks and cooed at him, while the old men barked at him to move or stay or speak or shut up. As he slowly approached the rather lovely building, he silently cursed his conniving boyfriend for convincing him to come.

The pair of boys nodded polite hellos to the half dozen septuagenarians situated on the porch and entered the open French doors. Before them, in the center of the grand foyer, stood a large, old-fashioned desk, upon which a sign reading _Breezy Hills Elder Care Center_ was affixed. A middle-aged woman with tawny locks pulled back into a bun and a pleasant, albeit tired, face clicked away at the keyboard of a small computer.

They stepped up to this desk, admiring the polished hardwood floors and decorative furniture, and the woman looked up almost immediately. "Hello!" she greeted them with a grin. "How can I help you boys?"

"We're here for the volunteer program..." He let the statement trail off, even more nervous than before. He looked to his boyfriend to bail him out.

"I'm Blaine Anderson, and this is Kurt Hummel. We signed up to sit with a few of your residents for a couple of hours."

"Of course, of course!" The woman waved a hand understandingly and returned her gaze to the monitor. "Yes, yes, I have you both right here. And you're here for community service hours?"

Kurt nodded, mouth still dry. "For scholarships."

The woman smiled and stood. "Very well, very well...if you follow me, I'll show you where you'll be working today." She turned to lead them down a short corridor behind her. "I'm Eleanor, by the way," she informed them over her shoulder. "I'm the staff coordinator here at Breezy Hills. If you have any questions regarding work hours or documentation, you can ask me. Ah, here we are." The trio rounded a corner to face a set of French doors. "This is the day room." Eleanor gestured to the windows of the doors, and the boys peered inside. "Here is where our more agile residents spend most of their time. Common activities include reading, music, and card and board games. You're just going to sit with them today; a lot of people here don't get visitors, and are very lonely. Brighten their day—that's why you're here." With that, she patted each boy on the shoulder and left.

"You ready?" Blaine asked, oddly excited.

"Not really." Kurt bit his lip. "What if they don't like us?"

Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and squeezed it. "That is preposterous. I can't imagine anyone _not_ loving you, Kurt." Kurt merely scoffed. "No, really. Come on, it'll be great." Still attached to Kurt by the hand, Blaine opened the door and entered the day room.

The space wasn't overly large, perhaps a few square feet bigger than the choir room at McKinley. The far wall was composed entirely of glass and looked out onto rolling gardens cut by a stone path. The left half of the room feature elegant couches and loveseats, some of which were occupied by residents, and a handful of card tables. Two elderly men had dragged rocking chairs over to one of these tables, and they battled each other silently in a serious game of backgammon. A baby grand piano dominated the other half of the room, though its bench remained empty. A scattering of seniors rocked in chairs knitting or cross-stitching and conversing lightly.

Before Blaine or Kurt could react to the space before them, a tiny, thin old woman approached them. She stood about a head shorter than Blaine, with sparse gray hair pulled back into a bun. Wrinkles covered every inch of her translucent skin, but lively, crystal orbs of blue shone beneath crow's feet and folded eyelids. "Well, hello, boys!" she greeted them with a toothy smile. "Who are you here to visit?"

Kurt warmed up to this woman immediately. "You!" He returned her smile with a laugh.

The woman looked confused, so Blaine elaborated. "We're here to visit with all of you, actually, if you'll have us."

The woman's face brightened once more. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest?" She turned her head over her shoulder and called, "Hey Marianne, come meet our fine young guests."

Another elderly woman approached the trio, shuffling along slowly. Her spine was curved slightly with age and her deep black skin dipped in many wrinkles. "This one's cute," she said offhandedly, gesturing once to Blaine, who grinned at the compliment. "Why are they here, Justine?"

The first woman, motioning for all three to follow, led the way to a pair of couches that faced each other. Blaine and Kurt claimed one, Marianne and Justine the other. "These lovely gentlemen have taken time out of their day to come visit with us."

Marianna wrinkled her nose. "Ain't you boys got anything more fun to do than waste away with a bunch of old fogies like us?"

"It was my idea," Blaine said smoothly, not wanting Marianne's bluntness to make Kurt even more nervous. "We need to have community service hours to earn certain college scholarships. I used to love visiting my great-aunt when she was in a nursing home, so I dragged Kurt out here with me." He nudged his boyfriend gently to get him to talk.

"Right!" Kurt squeaked. He swallowed quickly, trying not to notice the women's eyebrows shooting upward when he spoke. "So we thought...if you wanted someone to talk to...or...or sing with..."

"You sing?" All four turned to look at who spoke: a tall, broad man with sun-beaten, wrinkled skin, salt-and-pepper hair, and shocking green eyes.

Kurt nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. We both do. We're both members of our high school's show choir." He hoped Blaine wouldn't mind him automatically casting him into the Glee Club, even though he had yet to audition.

The man bobbed his head lightly. "Either of you play?" He then jerked his head toward the piano.

Blaine's eyes lit up. "We both do!"

"But Blaine's better," Kurt smiled wryly. The boy beside him flushed modestly.

"Why are you so curious, Andrew?" Justine asked of the man.

Andrew smiled. "We don't have enough music here. I'd play myself, if my arthritis wasn't so damn bad. Would you boys care to entertain us?"

Blaine immediately stood. "Absolutely!" He bumped Kurt's elbow with his hip. "Come on, let's put on a show!"

The party of five crossed over to the baby grand, earning the attention of the rest of the room. Blaine settled onto the bench while Kurt hopped atop the instrument. As the younger boy's hands stretched over the keys, a small crowd gathered, curious. Blaine began to play, and Kurt smiled at his choice. The two sang together.

"There was a time when we were down and out.  
>There was a place when we were starting over.<br>We let the bough break.  
>We let the heart ache, and<br>Who's sorry now?"

Blaine faded away as Kurt carried on.

"There was a world where we were standing still,  
>And for a moment we were separated,<br>And then you found her.  
>You let the stranger in.<br>Who's sorry now?  
>Who's sorry now?<br>What, what kind of fool  
>Tears it apart<br>Leavin' me pain and sorrow."

When Blaine took over, the entire room was silent, every eye trained on the singing boys.

"Losin' you now,  
>Wonderin' why,<br>Where will I be tomorrow?"

Kurt joined him again for the rest of the chorus and the next verse.

"Forevermore that's what we are to be:  
>Without each other.<br>We'll be rememberin' when  
>There was a time when we were down and out.<br>There was a place when we were starting over.  
>We let the bough break.<br>We let the heart ache and  
>Who's sorry now?<br>Who's sorry now?"

Blaine let Kurt take the chorus, failing to hide his grin at the impressed faces around them.

"What, what kind of fool  
>Tears it apart,<br>Leavin' me pain and sorrow?"

Kurt loved watching Blaine at the piano. He looked so peaceful, completely in his element. Kurt couldn't help but smile softly as the other boy sang.

"Oh, losin' you now,  
>How can I win?<br>Where will I be tomorrow?"

Kurt took the bridge, his eyes never leaving Blaine's.

"Was there a moment when I cut you down,  
>Played around?<br>What have I done?  
>I only apologize<br>For being, as they say, the last to know.  
>It has to show<br>When someone is in your eyes."

The two finished the song together, voices blending beautifully.

"What, what kind of fool  
>Tears it apart,<br>Leavin' me pain and sorrow?  
>Losin' you now,<br>How can I win?  
>Where will I be tomorrow?<br>Forevermore that's what we are to be:  
>Without each other.<br>We'll be rememberin' when."

When the last note died, an enthusiastic smattering of applause erupted from the onlookers. "That was beautiful!" Justine gushed, stepping forward and grasping one hand of each boy. "Would you play a few more for us?"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look, and then the former shrugged. "Why not?"

Justine beamed and released the boys. They sang a few more numbers; Kurt wowed everyone with a flawless rendition of "Defying Gravity," which was followed by "Perfect," which had most of the room dancing gently. After "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," "New Morning," and "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me," the elderly audience members were completely enamored with the performers. The two stood, Kurt sliding off of the piano to do so, and bowed, grinning happily.

While the majority of the room returned to their previous activities, chattering excitedly, Andrew approached the boys. "Come play chess with me," he said. "I want to talk to you."

The boyfriends traded nervous glances, but followed the older man as he led the way back to the couches. He settled himself down on one side of a chessboard, so Kurt and Blaine sat opposite him on a comfy loveseat. Andrew had chosen the white side, so he moved one of his pawns first. Blaine reciprocated with one of the black pawns, and soon the two were engaged in a battle of the mind, Kurt sitting beside his boyfriend rather awkwardly.

By the time Andrew had taken four black pieces and Blaine two white ones, the older man spoke up. "So how long have you two been dating?"

Kurt and Blaine froze, the latter's hand stretched out, about to lift up his queen-side knight. The two turned to gape at each other, unsure of how to answer. They'd decided to keep their sexuality private at the elder care center, since most of its residents would most likely be quite conservative.

Andrew smiled at their hesitation. "Relax, boys. I've got no problem with it." Now the two gaped at Andrew. He continued to smile at their shock. "When I was your age, I was just like every other straight guy in the country: vehemently homophobic. Then my little brother confided in me that he had a crush on his woodshop teacher, and that was it. Any issues I had with homosexuality disappeared. I loved my little brother more than anyone else in the world, and if he liked men, then that was fine with me."

Blaine retracted his hand and looked at Kurt. The older boy looked just as surprised as he felt. He slowly slid his hand over to twine his fingers through Kurt's. "So you just...changed your mind?"

"It wasn't that easy," Andrew explained, motioning for Blaine to continue on with their game. "There were times when I was just as ignorant as before, such as when Danny—that was my brother's name—started sneaking around with a boy from another school. I told him he shouldn't date, not only to keep safe, but because it wasn't right. That was a huge fight, and eventually I apologized for my stupidity. Over time, Danny turned me around; when the gay liberation movement started in 1969, we both got heavily involved, and we even marched in the first gay pride parade in San Francisco." Kurt and Blaine grinned at each other; they planned on marching in that very parade themselves one day. "I'd do anything for my little brother, and even though he's giving the angels fashion advice right now, I'll still do anything to make up to him the ignorance of my youth."

Kurt smiled gently at the old man. He never imagined such acceptance at a place full of elderly small-town Ohioans. He watched Andrew and Blaine make a few more moves on the chessboard, and then he spoke. "As much as we appreciate your acceptance—and believe me, it means a lot more than you might think—would you mind not telling anyone else here? They might not be as...open...as you are."

Andrew waved away Kurt's concerns with his hand. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. You might want to tone down the looks of utter adoration you give each other, though," he added with twinkle in his eye. "When you two were singing, it was like there was no one else in the room."

The boys grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, so we've been told," Kurt mumbled, looking away to hide his blush.

Andrew smiled too, and then turned serious. "Also, don't be surprised if you catch some rudeness from some of the men, Kurt." The boy in question looked back up in surprise. Blaine squeezed his hand for comfort as Andrew continued. "Your voice is...well, I don't have to tell you how high your voice is." Kurt gave a defeated smile and nodded. "A lot of the men here worked away their lives on farms or in labor-intensive careers. They might take offense to your...I don't mean to say femininity, but..."

"No, I get it," Kurt sighed. "You're right. And don't worry about me. I've been taking abuse for a long time." He smiled at Blaine when the younger boy squeezed his hand again.

Andrew nodded sadly, and then looked at his watch. "Well, will you look at the time? You've been here for nearly three hours. I bet you have somewhere you need to be soon."

Blaine checked his own watch and nodded. "Kurt, you've got to be at the shop in an hour, and I've got a violin lesson in two. We should probably go." The two stood, and shook Andrew's hand. "Thank you so much, sir. It's been an honor."

The older man waved them off. "Oh, please. It must be such a drag hanging out with a dried-up old mess like me. You are coming back though, right?" He looked hopeful.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a smile, and the latter replied, "You can't keep us away."

Andrew grinned. "Excellent. Well, I'll see you boys soon!"

The two waved and walked toward the doors. On the way out, they stopped and hugged Justine and Marianne goodbye, promising to come back and sing for the residents again soon. Then they left to check out with Eleanor, and a short while later they were zooming toward Hummel Tire and Lube.

"That was a lot of fun," Kurt said, one hand on the steering wheel and the other entangled with Blaine's atop the center console.

"It really was," Blaine chuckled, shooting Kurt a humored glance. "And not at all scary."

"I didn't think it was going to be scary!"

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I'm breaking up with you."

"Fine."

"...Jerk."

* * *

><p>Howdy! A super-duper-extraordinary shout-out to shotofwhiskey (formerly Artist-Writer-Lover-Fighter) for the prompt of community service. See, girl, I told you I was doing it! So next time you PM me buzzed, remember that I keep my promises. ;)<p>

I'd give you an awesomely long A/N, but I have to leave in ten minutes, and I'm half-dressed right now (not that you wanted to know that). I have to go before my mommy yells at me. :( Hope you enjoyed it!


	54. Crouching Spy, Hidden Talent

**Crouching Spy, Hidden Talent**

He slipped through the sliding glass door, grinning broadly. He looked about him: no one was to be seen. He snuck through the empty living room and up the stairs, following the sound of familiar music. He rolled his eyes at the album being played; his boyfriend was adorably predictable. He arrived at the top landing and hooked a right, treading silently to keep his approach a secret. Pushing open a door, he poked his head inside a room, preparing to scare its occupant.

What he saw was not what he expected.

In the center of the bedroom, facing away from the entrance, stood Kurt, bopping to his Lady Gaga playlist. However, it was not the normally captivating fluidity of Kurt's body that caught Blaine's attention—it was the dizzying flash of silver in his lifted hands.

Were those..._swords_?

Blaine leaned farther into the room, entranced. Two small swords—more like daggers, really—with three prongs each twisted in the air, flying around Kurt's nimble fingers. Kurt sang along to "Alejandro" loudly and surely, almost as if he wasn't paying attention to how his arms tossed the weapons up into the air and around his body. The metal gleamed in the sunlight streaming from Kurt's open window, casting the boy's skin in a warm glow.

Unthinkingly, Blaine leaned in some more, anxious for a better view of the amazing spectacle before him. However, he overestimated the stability of his grip on the doorknob, and he stumbled forward, crashing to the floor, the door banging open.

With a loud squeak, Kurt jumped and dropped his swords. He whipped around to find a sheepish Blaine picking himself up from the carpet. "Blaine!" he shrieked, immediately coloring. "What are you—how did you even—why didn't—how long have you been there?"

Standing carefully, Blaine brushed himself off. "Long enough."

Kurt flushed even deeper. "So you saw..." He bit his lip, turning away.

"One of the hottest displays ever?" Kurt's head whipped back around, eyes wide in astonishment. "Yeah, I saw it." Blaine quickly crossed the room and bent down, retrieving the fallen swords. He pressed them into Kurt's empty hands, lacing their fingers together around the hilts. "Why didn't you tell me that you had the sexiest talent know to man?"

Kurt choked back another squeak. He spluttered for a moment before managing a small "What?"

With a smirk, Blaine continued. "I mean, I honestly can't believe you hid this from me. I thought you talking in French was hot, but _damn_. This is just...that was the sexiest, _manliest_ thing I have ever seen." Blaine then leaned forward to press a searing kiss to a startled Kurt's lips.

"So...you don't think it's nerdy?" Kurt asked breathlessly when they broke apart. He reached over to his desk to pick up a can of Diet Coke—his guilty pleasure—in order to keep his hands from shaking with nerves and lust.

Blaine's smirk only widened. "If I say no, will you give me a private show?"

Now it was Kurt's turn to grin cockily. "Only if you can keep your hands to yourself—these _are _sharp, after all."

* * *

><p>Short chapter is short. I have MrMouseAndCheese to thank for the sai sword prompt - I think you also prompted Diet Coke, 'cause there is never enough Chris Colfer references in these fics. I tried to work llamas in there somewhere, but it just wasn't happening. I have my own genius to thank for this title; I thought of it in the middle of homeroom two days ago, and literally busted out laughing.<p>

So...I went a ball tonight. Like, a legit ball. It was my NJROTC unit's annual Navy Ball. I actually had a lot of fun. I was serenaded with "Don't Stop Believin'" by my pseudo-fiance and I was dolled up by my best friends. Of course, I now have a major-ass cramp in my calf from jumping up and down in a mosh pit for twenty minutes and my pinky toes have been rubbed raw, but it was a lot of fun.

I hoping to update again, because I've already started the next chapter, and it's going to be a short one. See you (figuratively) then!


	55. Distractions

**Distractions**

The savory sizzle of sautéed vegetables was harshly interrupted by a repetitive digital beep. The delicious scent of baking chicken burst from the open oven door, engaging in a tantalizing dance with the sweet aroma of soy sauce. A few shifts, the crinkle of aluminum foil, and the door slammed shut once more, followed by a half dozen more beeps. The sharp sound of metal upon wood echoed through the grand empty kitchen. In another part of the house, a door closed with a quite click.

The cook straightened up, adjusting his appearance hastily. He scrambled around the counter, tossing soiled paper towels into the trash can below the sink and unnecessary utensils into the waiting dishwasher, all the while listening to the approaching footfalls. He wrapped a hand around the wok on the stove, shifting the vegetables around, just as a curious head poked into the room.

"Mom, I didn't know you'd be—_Kurt_?"

Kurt didn't remove his eyes from the moving vegetables. "Hey, honey. Lunch is almost done. Want something to drink?"

Blaine didn't answer. His jaw hung slack as his wide eyes took in the sight before them: Kurt was drifting around the Anderson kitchen, a dark blue apron tied around his waist and his hair delightfully tousled. A smudge of soy sauce marred his pale skin. He fiddled with various instruments and machines to keep the aroma of something sinfully delicious wafting through the air.

When Blaine remained silent, Kurt glanced over at him, his glasz eyes alight with excitement. "Baby? Do you want something to drink?"

Finally coming to his senses, Blaine stepped forward into the kitchen. "Kurt...you're...cooking..."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'd noticed."

"...in my kitchen..."

"Astute, Blaine," Kurt replied dryly.

"...How did you get in here?"

With a smirk, Kurt pulled a key out of the pocket of his skinny jeans. "Really, Blaine? Under a rock? And last time I was here, I saw you punch the alarm code into the box."

Blaine stood in shocked silence for a long moment. He had no idea how to react. "You're a right little stalker, aren't you?"

"I try," Kurt responded with a shrug. "Now, you never answered my question: do you want something to drink?"

"Uh...sure..." Blaine moved farther into the kitchen, retrieving two glasses from a cupboard. He grabbed two bottles from the sleek, stainless steel refrigerator, pouring a glass of grape soda for himself and one of Diet Coke for Kurt. He placed the latter next to his boyfriend on the counter. "So...why are you making me lunch again?" Since he'd arrived, he'd been racking his brain for some recollection of a date made with Kurt, but so far he'd come up blank.

Kurt adjusted a dial on the stove, and then turned to smile at his boyfriend. "I knew you had a meeting with your father at his office today, and I know how stressed he makes you, so I _thought_—" With a sly grin, Kurt shuffled closer and snaked his arm around Blaine's neck. "—that you shouldn't have to come back to fend for yourself."

Awestruck, Blaine pulled Kurt even closer by the waist. "You—" He kissed Kurt's right cheek. "—are—" He kissed his left cheek. "—perfect." He pressed his lips fully onto Kurt's. "I can't believe you did this for me."

Kurt responded with another kiss. "I love you. I just wanted you to remember that after a morning with your father."

Blaine couldn't take it anymore. He squeezed Kurt against him, twirling the older boy around him and setting him on top of the counter. He placed a hand on either side of Kurt's face and pulled it down until their lips locked together with blistering heat. Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine's back and dragged him closer to the counter. He then threw his head back as Blaine's lips trailed down and began to suck a deep bruise into his neck. He let out a piteous moan, completely eclipsing the sudden beeping of the stove. The two let their hands and lips trail all over each other's skin, all thoughts of food slipping easily from their minds.

That was, until the timer on the oven went off again, just as Kurt's foot slipped between Blaine's legs. Kurt ripped his head away from Blaine's—much to the disgruntlement of the younger boy—and snapped over to the oven. "The chicken!" He shoved Blaine out of the way and leapt off the counter, wrenching the oven door open. A cloud of gray smoke billowed out, engulfing him. Blaine quickly stepped forward and snatched a coughing Kurt out of the way. The two waited until the smoke was gone, and then Kurt looked into the oven again. The chicken he'd been baking was completely black.

Kurt whipped around to glare at Blaine. "Now look what you've done!"

Blaine lifted his hands up in surrender. "What? This isn't _my _fault!"

Kurt's eyes narrowed ever further. "If you hadn't _attacked _me in your kitchen for making you _lunch_, I would have taken the chicken out on time and we would be enjoying delicious stir fry right now."

Blaine just shook his head. "Fine. It's my fault. Now, should I just grab the Chinese menu and order some stir fry from there, or..."

Kurt rolled his eyes, grabbed Blaine by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Yes you should," he mumbled. "I want a fortune cookie."

* * *

><p>Okay, so...the return of horny!Klaine, but rather tame, if I do say so myself. Plus, this was prompted to me, so blame MrMouseAndCheese.<p>

I HAVE CREATED ANOTHER GLEEK! This chapter is dedicated my friend Synnovea, who has watched the the first twenty episodes since nine-thirty LAST NIGHT. She's more fucking addicted than I am. I think I created a monster...wait until I introduce her to FanFiction...all hell is going to break loose in our unit...

Short A/N. Not much to say. Not sure how long it'll be until I update again. I'm off to catch up with _White Collar _on Netflix. Bye bye!


	56. Okay

**Okay**

His eyelids drooped, heavy after a long day of researching colleges. He'd only bothered looking into New York schools. Impractical? Maybe. But his heart was set on living in that beautiful city with his beautiful boyfriend for the rest of their beautiful lives. Staring at the computer screen all day wore his eyes out, and the stress of planning his future—_their_ future—sucked all the energy from his body. He switched off his bedside lamp and snuggled under the covers, waiting for sleep to overcome him.

"Let's go all  
>The way tonight,<br>No regrets—  
>Just love."<p>

He cracked one eye open with a groan. He knew the caller—only one person would ever be granted _that_ ringtone—but he wasn't sure why he was calling. He stretched a hand out and snatched the vibrating device from the nightstand. "Hello?"

"...Blaine?"

Blaine sat upright immediately, turning on his lamp again. "Kurt?" The older boy's voice was so _broken_, and it sent a sickening chill to Blaine's stomach. "What's wrong—are you okay?"

Kurt sniffed. "I'm sorry to wake you—you up, b-but—"

"Kurt, no," Blaine rushed, cutting off Kurt's stuttered apology. "Talk to me. Are you okay?"

After a deep, shaking breath, Kurt answered, "I'm at the hospital."

Blaine leapt out of bed, throwing dirty jeans over the boxers he'd been planning to sleep in. "What happened? Are you hurt? How long have you—where are you? Are you alone? What happened?" By the time Blaine finished he was halfway down the stairs, his ratty old t-shirt crookedly pulled over his crazy curls, and he was charging forth in mismatched flip-flops.

"I'm fine," Kurt sighed. "It's...my dad." His voice hitched, and it broke Blaine's heart.

Blaine seized his keys from the table by the front door. "I'm on my way."

* * *

><p>Blaine flew through the hospital doors, throwing himself at the reception desk. "Burt Hummel?" he asked breathlessly of the woman behind the counter.<p>

Taking in the disheveled appearance of the boy in front of her, the woman answered slowly, "Are you fam—"

"Yes." The two at the desk turned to see a deathly pale Kurt walking toward them. Before the receptionist could object, Blaine strode over to his shaking boyfriend and wrapped him up in a hug. Kurt melted into the embrace, allowing the bone-crushing tears he had been holding in to burst forth at last. Blaine ushered him over to the waiting area, settling him into an uncomfortable chair without breaking his hold. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and soothing noises in his ear, Kurt calmed down to hiccups. Blaine pulled back and placed a hand on either side of Kurt's face, locking gazes questioningly.

Kurt understood Blaine's silent inquiry. "We were watching _Will and Grace_ reruns and—and he laughed—he _laughed_, that's it. And his breathing got he-heavy, and he was holding his hear-heart..." He swallowed thickly, and Blaine pressed their foreheads together in wordless encouragement. "Carole...she was so good...she got him into the car before I could even move, and I was so _scared_—I couldn't even help him, I—"

"Sh," Blaine cut off his pained rambling. "This is not your fault. You did fine. Now...how is he?" Blaine's own heart fluttered erratically as he pictured the fate of the man he had grown to love.

Kurt nodded once shakily. "He'll be fine. He...it wasn't another heart attack, just some chest pains, but...I was _so scared_, Blaine. I thought I was going to lose him, a-and—"

Blaine engulfed him again. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. He's fine, you're fine, we're fine. Just relax. Everything is going to be okay."

A few minutes later, the boys heard a relieved voice approaching them. "Oh Kurt, _there_ you are." The boyfriends broke apart to see Carole hurrying their way. "You left to bring Blaine up, but you didn't come back and—oh sweetie, are you okay?" She dropped to her knees in front of her stepson and held his hands on top of his lap.

Kurt smiled slightly. "I'm fine. Blaine's a good tissue." His smile grew when the younger boy chuckled.

"Well, your father's awake," Carole laughed. "He's asking for you." She smirked. "Funny thing: he didn't exactly ask for you, Kurt; what he said was, 'Where are Kurt and Blaine?'"

Blaine positively beamed.

Kurt stood up, dragging his prideful boyfriend with him. "Let's go—I need to go give him grief about not taking care of himself." The three headed for the elevator, the younger two hand-in-hand.

As they rode up, Blaine couldn't help but feel giddy. His future father-in-law was going to be okay, his boyfriend was right by his side, and he was a part of this family.

_This must be how it feels to have a home._

* * *

><p>Hi there! I'm updating on a Tuesday - SCANDALOUS! This was just something I wrote because I was bored. It looked a lot longer on paper...<p>

Anyways, MY CREYS! See, Kurt drama! I'm not restricted to Blangst! And Blaine/Hudmel lovin'...oh yes...be prepared for more of that...

Not much to say...except WHY THE FUCK ISN'T IT JANUARY 31ST YET? *le sigh*

I cried when Darren cried during his final H2$ scene. I am not afraid to admit this.

If there are any New England Patriots fans out there, hit me up for some bitching about the AFC Championship and some freaking out about the Super Bowl.

As always, supa-shout-out to SeptemberLoveStory, my home skillet, for being there and being awesome. I LURVE U 5EVA! (I also hope this updates while you're away from the computer. [cue evil laughter])


	57. The Girls

**The Girls**

He lounged back on his elbows, wiggling his toes and fingers in delight. His skin felt fresh and new, and he was reveling in the scent of nail polish and skin care products. His unstyled chestnut locks had been swept away from his smooth forehead by a blue headband, his face a smooth porcelain canvas for various masks and scrubs the gaggle of girls around him spent all afternoon applying to him and to each other. Laughter and shrieks mixed with the music blaring from two speakers.

After a while, a curly head poked into the room. "Hey, girls, plus one."

"OUT!"

Blaine took an automatic step backward at the overwhelming shout. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, guys, I was just stopping in to say hi."

"Aren't you sleeping over in Finn's room tonight?" Santana asked bluntly in the process of giving Tina cornrows.

"Yeah," Blaine answered, smiling at his beautiful boyfriend. Kurt's eyes were closed, and he sighed with pleasure as Rachel and Mercedes worked a lotion into his feet. After a long moment of shameless ogling, Blaine continued, "I'll get out of your hair."

"You'd better," Santana sniped. "And make sure Puckerman didn't smuggle in any booze—the last thing I want to see on a girls' spa weekend is you and the other hobbit playing tonsil hockey."

Kurt's eyes flew open to glare at Santana as Rachel squeaked and knocked over the (mercifully closed) bottle of lotion. Blaine's face darkened to a violent shade of red. But before anyone could say anything, Brittany frowned and scolded, "Tanny, stop. What's past is past. Besides, both dolphins have kissed girls, so they're even."

There was a long pause. Then Kurt collapsed onto his back, flung an arm over his eyes, and groaned, "_Brittany_..." Mercedes giggled at her friend's pain, then looked over at Blaine and broke out into crippling laughter. The junior boy's face was pure confusion as his eyes flicked back and forth between his prostrate boyfriend and a bubbly Brittany.

Blaine finally entered the room, closing the door behind him, and settled on the floor near Kurt's head. "Okay..._what_?"

Brittany's eyes lit up as she began to tell her story. "Well, sophomore year, Kurt was the only boy in school I'd never made out with, so I asked him, and he eventually said yes. He even dressed up! He looked a lot like Finn and Papa Burt."

Blaine's jaw nearly hit the floor. He gaped at his boyfriend, who peeked at him blearily with one eye still under his forearm. "Look, it's not that big of a deal," Kurt sighed. "My dad was hanging out with Finn a lot, and it felt like he just wanted a straight, normal son, so I faked it. For a week. Sang Mellencamp and everything."

Blaine was speechless. He tried to picture his fashionable beaux in flannel, loose jeans, and work boots, but he came up blank. "So...you made out with _Brittany_?"

The blonde nodded excitedly. "He tasted nice. Hey, you're going to McKinley now, right? Wanna make out?"

"_NO!_" Kurt and Santana shouted simultaneously, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Blaine smiled at Brittany, shaking his head, while Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina smirked at Santana's defensive face.

Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt lightly, eliciting a squeal from all the girls save Santana. "I love you," he murmured, grinning at Kurt's attempt to fight a smile. He stood and bowed to the room. "I will leave you all to your pampering. I'm off to kick your boyfriends' asses at every video game they throw at me." He strode over to the door and opened it. Before exiting, he paused. "Oh, and Brittany?" he called over his shoulder. "Mitts off my man." He dashed out of the room, slamming the door closed and effectively blocking the onslaught of pillows flung his way by Kurt and Santana.

* * *

><p>So, on a scale of Kurt finding out that Rachel joined the race for student body president to Sue losing Nationals, how pissed are y'all at me? Guys, I am so fucking sorry that it's taken me forever to upload a new chapter. My life has been colored with every shade of the chaotic crayon this semester, and I haven't had time to remember my own name, much less work on AVKS. I say that, knowing full well that I've written and published quite a few one-shots, and now I feel bad again. But I promise - <strong>PROMISE!<strong> - that the next chapter will be up tomorrow. It's a good one, too. At least, I think so.

So, here's something I haven't done in a while: AVPM/S reference! You find it, you get a Virtual Bear Hug (patent pending) in my next chapter (or whatever chapter comes after your earning it). It's kind of subtle, so you have to look.

I love you guys so much. Thanks for putting up with my shit and my irresponsibility and my egregious lack of time management. I would like to send specials shout-outs to SeptemberLoveStory (as always), shotofwhiskey, Thaliana (reviewer extraordinaire), and an-alternate-world. You guys are awesome, and have helped me through so much these past few weeks. I am forever grateful for your words and your groundedness. (Well, SLS, "grounded" isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe you, but...;))

Update coming again soon, I PROMISE!

Just another reminder, my Tumblr is klainebowsandquirrelmort. Just like my pen name. Which I changed, if you haven't noticed yet.


	58. This Is

**This Is**

Slightly nervous, he raised a fist and rapped it sharply against the door. He knew his sweaty palms and racing heart were ridiculous; it wasn't as though these people were _strangers_. As he waited, he jerkily smoothed the sleeves of his blazer, jostling the bouquet of white roses in his hands. He heard footsteps approaching the door, and he affixed what he hoped was a confident grin on his face. The door opened.

"Hello, Blaine!" Carole exclaimed, immediately pulling the boy into a hug. "We're so glad you could make it!" She leaned back and spotted the now partially-crushed flowers. "Oh, you sweet thing!" Blaine sheepishly handed her the bouquet, which she sniffed deeply. "Oh, they're lovely. Come in, come in!" Carole grabbed his hand and led him inside. "Kurt! Burt! Finn! Blaine's here!"

"Coming!" they heard from three different directions.

Carole laughed and rolled her eyes. "Men." She scurried off to the kitchen to set the roses in a vase, leaving Blaine by himself in the living room. He heard soft squealing from the doorway Carole disappeared through, informing Blaine that his boyfriend was also in the kitchen. Smiling, he wandered over to the mantle, gazing over the familiar photos of the Hudson-Hummels over the past decades. He stopped at his favorite, his smile growing soft. Encased in a black frame, a three-year-old Kurt sat on a piano bench, his tiny legs swinging free, chestnut locks all askew. Next to him, with one porcelain arm around his shoulder, beamed Elizabeth Hummel, her glasz eyes alight with the music Kurt tapped out with stubby fingers. The picture contained so much _life_ and _energy_ that Blaine couldn't help but yearn for the chance to meet that amazing woman.

"She would have loved you." Blaine whipped around to find Burt Hummel leaning against the door frame leading in from the garage, clearly fighting a smile. "Lizzie would have absolutely adored you."

Blaine flushed. "I wish I could have met her."

Burt snorted. "You have." At Blaine's confusion, he elaborated. "Every day I watch Kurt grow into the unbelievable man he is, and every day I see something new that reminds me of Lizzie. It's like they were twins, born a generation apart. Every day he does something little that is _exactly_ what she used to do. So, really, you have met her. He's just as amazing as she was."

Before Blaine could respond, he was tackled into the couch. "Hey, baby," his attacker whispered into his ear.

"I seriously hope this is Kurt, otherwise this is going to be extremely awkward," Blaine mumbled into the couch cushion.

"Kurt, get off the boy before he suffocates."

Kurt clambered off of Blaine's back, allowing the younger boy to stand and smooth his outfit. "Why'd you dress up so nicely? Don't get me wrong, I'm very proud of you for embracing a moment for fashion whenever you can, but this is just dinner."

Blaine blushed again. "I know that, it's just...this is the first time I've had dinner with the entire family.

Kurt contemplated that. He was surprised to realize that Blaine was right. Every time he'd come over for dinner before, Burt had been at the shop, or Carole was working the late shift at the hospital, or Finn was with Rachel or at football practice. This was Blaine's first dinner with the entire Hudson-Hummel clan present. Smiling, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and led him into the dining room. "Well, come on! There's nothing to be nervous about." He forcibly sat Blaine in a chair, on the long side with two place settings, kissed him on the cheek, and disappeared into the kitchen. He breezed in a moment later with Carole at his heels, each laden with several dishes of food. Blaine stood to help, but Carole shook her head.

"Don't be silly, sweetie!" she laughed. "You sit down and relax. You look nervous." She chuckled again when Blaine's cheeks stained red. She then turned her head over her shoulder. "BURT! FINN! DINNER!"

Blaine's triangular eyebrows shot upward. Carole just _yelled_ dinner. He could never imagine his mother doing something so...improper.

Finn lumbered into the dining room and collapsed in the chair opposite Blaine. He automatically reached a hand out to scoop rice out of a tureen, but Carole slapped it away. "Wait until everyone's here," she chided. Burt entered the room, and the three standing took their seats, Kurt beside Blaine and one adult one each end.

All chaos broke loose.

Kurt and Finn both reached for the rice ladle at the same time. Kurt glared. "Let go, Finn."

"You let go, bro! I'm hungry!"

"You're _always_ hungry! You don't have a stomach—you have a black hole!"

"Come on, I haven't eaten since three!"

"_It's only five-thirty!_"

"So?"

As the boys squabbled, Burt tried to lift the plate of marinated chicken and knocked over a gravy boat, spilling the gray-brown liquid over Carole's favorite white tablecloth, eliciting a shriek from the woman. Burt swore loudly and scrambled to clean up his mess.

Finn finally grabbed a hold of the ladle, but in his victorious excitement, he accidentally flung some white grains into Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair. Kurt looked positively murderous. "FINN CHRISTOPHER HUDSON!" Finn quickly handed over the ladle in surrender.

Amidst the noise and mess sat Blaine, eyes wide, with one thought running through his mind: _What rabbit hole did I fall into?_ Blaine came from a world of stoic meals with food brought out by a maid and eaten in silence, backs straight, elbows off the table, napkins spread on laps. Father sat on one end, Mother across from him, he and his brother on the sides. Everything lay in its proper place, never to be unnecessarily jostled. Broken china meant no supper. A meal was rigid, quiet, and cold.

But this...this was madness.

He watched as Burt simultaneously tried to save the tablecloth and Finn from Kurt's wrath, as Carole ferociously stabbed her broccoli with a fork, as Kurt unleashed a litany of abuse onto a sheepish Finn. He didn't know how to respond so much energy and activity and _life_.

Finally, Burt used the water Kurt made him drink to clean the gravy, Kurt picked all the rice from his locks, and Finn began scarfing down pounds of food. Kurt shot a last glare at his stepbrother and glanced over at his boyfriend. What he saw on his face was curious: Blaine's hazel eyes were alight with wonder, his mouth slightly open in awe and amazement. He followed the movement around the table as thought it was a tennis match, taking in everything studiously. Kurt slid a hand onto Blaine's knee and squeezed. "You okay?"

Blaine turned to face Kurt, his eyes growing even wider. "Are you...is dinner like this every night?"

Kurt flushed and nodded. "Yeah. I know, we're a little insane, and I'm so embarrassed for how crazy we are, but—"

"No!" Blaine's interruption caught the attention of the whole table. "No, Kurt, you...you don't get it. At my house, dinner is...silent. We don't speak. We don't look at each other. We eat together, because _that's what proper families do_, but it's just...cold.

"This, though...this is amazing. This isn't...a _meal_. This is an experience. This is...love."

By the end of Blaine's broken speech, both Kurt and Carole's eyes were shining. Realizing how emotional he just sounded, Blaine ducked his head, face permanently red. Suddenly, two arms engulfed him in a tight hug. He leaned into Kurt's embrace, smiling broadly.

_This is home._

* * *

><p>Okay, so shotofwhiskey gets a shout-out and a VBH for this chapter! The shout-out is for inadvertently prompting this Hudmelson dinner in one of our many zany conversations, and the VBH is for picking up on the AVPMS reference in the last chapter (blue headband - obscure, I know). You fucking rock!

Originally, this chapter was going to be chapter 57, and LAST chapter was going to be 58, but then I realize that this chapter and chapter 56 have a lot in common, so I wanted a break in between. Anyways, because I wrote these two this week, I have a shit-load of Calc homework to do, so feel lucky.

As always, PM and/or review me if you have questions, comments, suggestions, or fangirling needs. I'm always hear to listen! Read! Whatever!

TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.


	59. Don't You Wanna Stay?

**Don't You Wanna Stay?**

Everything was warm. Soft. Home. He rolled onto his stomach with a sigh. Time meant nothing. The rest of the world had no significance. It was just them, and it was perfect.

His eyes fluttered open and were met with a smile. He slowly inhaled the scent of the pillow below him, basking in its unforgettable aroma. The smile before him dragged him further out of his sleepy haze. He responded with a soft grin of his own. "Hey, you."

"Hey, love."

A soft beep from behind his head interrupted the moment. With a groan, he flipped over onto his back and reached a hand out to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

"Noooooo..." A hand stretched across his torso and made a grab for the device. "No phones. Just us."

He held the phone high. "Stop that. It's just my alarm. I need to go soon."

"Noooooo..." The whine was back. "Don't leave me. Don't you wanna stay?"

He sighed, turning onto his side. "Blaine..."

"Come here." Blaine snaked an arm around to Kurt's back, tugging his bare torso against his own. "I need to feel you."

Kurt paused, fighting the fog of desire to make a clear decision. He could get up, slip his shirt and vest back on, kiss his boyfriend goodbye, and leave, breaking the most beautiful moment of his seventeen years on Earth. Or he could stay here, in this bed, in these arms, with those eyes, and lose himself in the feel of love and pillows and summer and _Blaine_—and get grounded, locked away in his bedroom, never to see his boyfriend again. He let out another sigh. "My dad will be furious. Curfew is eleven. It's nine now. I can't be late again."

As Kurt made to sit up, Blaine held him tighter. Then, much to Kurt's surprise, he began to sing.

"I really hate to let this moment go,  
>Touchin' your skin and your hair fallin' slow.<br>When a goodbye kiss,  
>Feels like this,"<p>

By the end of the verse, both boys were sitting upright, arms and legs tangled together. Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine's and joined him for the chorus.

"Don't you wanna stay here a little while?  
>Don't you wanna hold each other tight?<br>Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?  
>Don't you wanna stay here a little while?<br>We can make forever feel this way.  
>Don't you wanna stay?"<p>

Kurt stood up, leaving Blaine in bed alone. He retrieved his shirt from its place on Blaine's desk. He sang as he buttoned it.

"Let's take it slow. I don't wanna move too fast.  
>I don't wanna just make love; I wanna make love last.<br>When you're up this high,  
>It's a sad goodbye."<p>

Blaine jumped out of bed, snatching Kurt's vest before the older boy could don it.

"Don't you wanna stay here a little while?  
>Don't you wanna hold each other tight?<br>Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?  
>Don't you wanna stay here a little while?<br>We can make forever feel this way.  
>Don't you wanna stay?"<p>

"Oh, you feel so perfect, baby," Blaine crooned, tugging Kurt back to the bed by his hands.

"Yeah, you feel so perfect, baby," Kurt echoed. He allowed himself to be guided onto the bed, sitting cross-legged across from his boyfriend. The two sang the last chorus together.

"Don't you wanna stay here a little while...?  
>Don't you wanna stay here a little while?<br>Don't you wanna hold each other tight?  
>Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?<br>Don't you wanna stay here a little while?  
>We can make forever feel this way.<br>Don't you wanna stay?"

"Don't you wanna stay?" Kurt's high, powerful voice rang clear, completely blowing Blaine's mind. The younger boy nearly forgot to join Kurt for the last few words.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...  
>Yeah, yeah, yeah..."<p>

By the end, both boys were wide-eyed and out of breath. The tension in the air was tangible. Another moment and they would devour each other—so Kurt ripped himself away, sliding his vest from Blaine's fingers. "I have to go," he whispered. He pulled on the vest and slipped into his Sperries. He grabbed his bag from its place by the door and looked back at Blaine. The younger boy's face was absolutely heart-breaking. "Hey, don't look at me like that," Kurt murmured. "It's not like I'm moving to Yemen."

Blaine smiled softly. "This was the most perfect evening of my life."

"We didn't even do anything," Kurt laughed.

"Yeah, wasn't it great?"

Kurt stepped out of the room. "I love you, Blaine."

"Love you, too. Drive safe; if you don't come back to me I'll kill you."

"Promise."

He left.

* * *

><p>Hey y'all! So, the song used in this chapter is "Don't You Wanna Stay" by Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson. It's a great song. I heard for the first time in months during the Grammys, and I thought that maybe it would be a good idea for a song!fic, but then it came on my iPod on shuffle the very next day, and I was like, "Alright, this is the universe telling me I have to write this," so I did. It's short. *shrugs* Sorry.<p>

Okay, I need to give a googol hugs to smiley-luce. This crazy girl read through every single chapter of my story in, what, two days? three? And she reviewed every. Single. Fucking. Chapter. I woke up to twenty-eight emails from her ALONE one morning. I owe you so much, girl. You light up my life like a motherfucking lamp.

So, next chapter is sixty! AAHH! I've already got ninety percent of it written, and let me tell you, it is my favorite so far. I'm, like, hysterical over this. I'll tell you the story behind it in the next A/N, but DAMN. It'll be up within the hour; I just have to type it up and finish it.

I LURVE U ALL!


	60. Collide

**Collide**

He woke up slowly, blinking at the slivers of early morning sunlight that peeked through his drawn curtains. As he listened to the lyrical whistles of the cardinals outside, for a moment, everything seemed okay.

But then it came back to him. The crying phone call. The broken speed limits. The pounding heart.

The reason there was a body curled up next to his.

Carefully, gently, he stroked the smooth skin of the boy next to him with the back of his hand, not wanting to wake him but needing to reassure his presence as a reality. His fingers toyed with a soft strand of hair for moment, his mind completely lost in the feeling of _I love you_. He was so caught up in the sensation that he didn't notice at first when the other boy began to stir.

"Kurt?"

The boy in question smiled down. "Hey, honey. How are you?"

Blaine gave a half-hearted shrug. "I've been better."

"...You wanna tell me what happened last night?"

Avoiding Kurt's intense blue stare, Blaine shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Blaine. You called me at ten-thirty in full-on sobs, asking me to pick you up from the park half a mile from you house because you can't go back home and you're _scared_ and, _God_, Blaine, I'd do it every night, without thought, over and over, but I _need_ to know what happened, because it _does_ matter—you matter, and you scared the _crap_ out of me, Blaine. I have to know why."

Blaine looked as though he wanted to cry, but was too exhausted to actually form tears. "I can't, Kurt. I just...I can't."

"C'mere." Kurt sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. He gathered Blaine's tiny frame into his arms and tucked him into his chest. Rocking back and forth gently, he began to sing.

"The dawn is breaking,  
>A light shining through.<br>You're barely waking,  
>And I'm tangled up in you, yeah.<br>I'm open,  
>You're closed.<br>Where I follow,  
>You'll go.<br>I worry I won't see your face  
>Light up again.<p>

Even the best fall down sometimes.  
>Even the wrong words seem to rhyme.<br>Out of the doubt that fills my mind,  
>I somehow find,<br>You and I  
>Collide."<p>

Kurt gripped Blaine more tightly as he felt the younger boy's sobs break free. He fought a quaver in his voice as he continued.

"I'm quiet, you know.  
>You make a first impression.<br>I find I'm scared to know I'm  
>Always on your mind.<p>

Even the best fall down sometimes.  
>Even the stars refuse to shine.<br>Out of the back you fall in time  
>And somehow find<br>You and I  
>Collide.<p>

Don't stop here.  
>I've lost my place.<br>I'm close behind."

By now, Blaine's entire body shook with broken cries as he listened to Kurt sing. His face buried in his boyfriend's chest, inhaling his warm, safe scent, he couldn't see the silent tears rolling down Kurt's cheek.

"Even the best fall down sometimes.  
>Even the wrong words seem to rhyme.<br>Out of the doubt that fills your mind,  
>You finally find<br>You and I  
>Collide.<br>You finally find  
>You and I<br>Collide.  
>You finally find<br>You and I  
>Collide."<p>

Kurt continued to rock Blaine back and forth until his sobs subsided. The sunlight crept higher on the wall, and when it lit up their faces, Blaine swallowed his last tears and looked up at his boyfriend. The two locked eyes and smiled softly.

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, wiping away a few stray drops from his cheek.

Kurt stilled his hand, brushing the tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Anytime. Ready to talk?"

Blaine nodded. "It was...basically a normal fight. I'm gay, I'm ruining the family, this is all my fault, he'd stop hitting me if I stopped be a royal screw-up." He shuddered. "But...this time he brought you into it." Kurt immediately stiffened. "He didn't...he didn't _threaten_ you or anything—God, it almost would have been easier if he did, I wouldn't have hesitated to kick his ass from here until December—but...he told me that I was wasting my time with you, that...that you couldn't love me, that no one could love me, that eventually you'd leave and leave me alone, and I was doomed to be miserable forever because I refused to stop being gay." He didn't even realize that his voice was nearly inaudible by the end of his explanation, or that as much as he wanted to cry, he simply_ couldn't_ anymore.

Kurt pulled Blaine even tighter against his chest. He ran his hands up and down Blaine's arms, showering his curls, his cheeks, his neck, his nose, his shoulders, his everything thing in sight with kisses. "I love you so much," he whispered. "So, so, so, so much that it hurts, that I can't breathe, that I'm starting to scare myself but _God_ I don't want to stop because I need you like a drug. You saved me from my own personal hell, and you gave me heaven. I will never finish thanking you for that. Do you remember what I told you, on the steps of McKinley, the day I transferred?" Blaine shook his head. "_I am never saying goodbye to you._ I said it, and I meant it. Please, please, _please,_ if you listen to only one thing I say, forget every fashion tip I've ever given you and remember that."

Blaine let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. He...he just go to me. I really needed you last night, and...you were there. It's like you were proving him wrong."

"And I'd do it all over again." Kurt looked over at the clock. "It's almost time for lunch. Want me to make you some of my special chicken noodle soup?"

Blaine's shining hazel eyes poured into Kurt's warm glasz ones. "I'd love that.

_You finally find  
>You and I<br>Collide._

* * *

><p>So there I was, sitting outside, rolling a bag full of milk, sugar, vanilla, ice, and rock salt back and forth, listening to my iPod as I waited for the concoction to turn to ice cream (AP Chemistry has never been more fun). And lo and behold, what should my shuffle send to me but one of my all-time favorites that I haven't heard in forever, "Collide" by Howie Day. I listened to the first few lines and nearly had a stroke, completely freaking out the girl next to me. I just <em>knew<em> I had to write this.

So, I totally broke down while writing this. I don't care how conceited this sounds, Imma say it anyways: I fucking love this. This is my favorite chapter. Like, by far. Why is it all the multiples of ten are so much better than the others? Fifty was good, forty was good...It must be my inner Monk coming out.

I have to say something to karatekid1018, because s/he reviewed my last chapter, but disabled personal messaging, so I can't reply, so if you're not him/her, feel free to ignore this: I loved your prompt, I really did, but in my headcanon, Blaine's birthday is in February (the fifth, to be exact, which is a completely arbitrary date that I one hundred percent made up on the spot and has no relevance whatsoever to any actors that may or may not portray that character on the show). And since February isn't in the summer...I can't do it. :( Sorry! I also apologize for your loss of heart juice; I recommend a bellybutton plug. (That looks so perverted in writing.)

For the rest of you, I thank you for sticking with me through sixty chapters, and I can't wait for sixty (or six hundred!) more!


	61. Kurt's Problem

**Kurt's Problem**

He sighed, his back arching off of the bed. He couldn't do anything but lay there as the boy above him lavished his bare stomach with kisses and nips and licks. He felt teeth on one of his hardened nipples, and he screamed in delight. A tender hand trailed down his chest, over his belly button, across his hips, and settled on his throbbing, aching member. Gripping it tightly, the hand moved up and down, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. Between the overwhelming feeling of the hand and the tongue that was currently tracing impossible intricate patterns behind his ear, he thought he was going to pass out. There was simply too much pleasure for one teenage boy to handle. His own hands flew up to scrape into the back of the gorgeously naked boy above him, pulling him in closer and deeper. There was nothing but groans and heaving breathing and sweat and _don''twedonethissooner._

"I love you."

Those three words knocked him over the edge. He spilled out hot and wet and fast, jerking erratically below his lover.

And then he woke up.

Panting, Kurt jolted upright. His head whipped about, trying to ascertain his surroundings. He was not, in fact, lying on his boyfriend's bed, debauched and sweaty as Blaine jerked him off. He was lying in his own room, under the covers, in now uncomfortably sticky pajama pants.

With a groan, he slammed his head back into his pillow. This was the third time in the past two weeks this had happened to Kurt. He thanked every deity he didn't believe in that the Hudson-Hummels' new house had four bedrooms; he'd absolutely _die_ if Finn caught him having a wet dream.

It wasn't as though what was happening was entirely surprising. He was a teenage boy, god damn it, no matter how much he didn't act like it. He had an unbelievably sexy boyfriend with an unbelievably sexy body and unbelievably sexy hands and an unbelievably sexy mouth that he liked to do unbelievably sexy things with.

Not that he'd done many.

The boys were playing it safe, that was for sure. Their hands had never strayed below the waistbands, and they'd never seen each other more bare than shirtless. Their mouths had explored their upper halves quite extensively, but that never lasted long before at least one of them had a _problem_ that he needed to go take care of. Most of them time, the two hovered around making out, which was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Kurt wanted more. He didn't know what he wanted, or how to ask for it, but he knew he wanted it. He remembered only a little over a month ago when he told Blaine he'd wanted to wait until marriage. How foolish was he. He'd die if he had to wait that long before having sex with his boyfriend.

That thought made him pause. He still wasn't entirely sure he was ready for sex yet. He would be someday, oh yes, he had no doubt about that, but not today. He needed to make sure than anything _physical_ they did was out of love and mutual desire to make the other feel good and nothing else. Sex was personal, so personal, and Kurt didn't ever want to take it for granted.

With a groan, Kurt threw back his covers and made his way to his bathroom. Shedding his soiled pajamas and boxers quickly, he jumped in a shower. Trying to keep his thoughts from straying back to his vivid dream, he lost himself in his routine, moisturizing extensively once he was out of the shower. He went through the usual hour-long process of picking an outfit.

By the time he was finished, it was nine-thirty. He suddenly remembered his coffee date with Blaine. He grabbed his bag and rushed downstairs, barely stopping to say good morning to his father and Carole before charging out to Navigator and pulling away. When he reached the Lima Bean, it was five minutes after ten.

He crashed into the shop, spotting Blaine at their usual table. "I am so, so, so sorry I'm late," he babbled, collapsing into his seat. "I had a weird start to my morning, and then I took forever getting ready—_not_ that that's a surprise—and I—"

"_Kurt_," Blaine interrupted with an indulgent smile. "It's okay. You're not even really late." He pushed a cup across the table. "A non-fat mocha for you, sir."

Kurt's returning smile was one of warmth and appreciation. "Thank you."

"So...what was this weird start to your morning?"

Kurt choked violently on his sip of coffee. Turning beet red, he squeaked, "You know, overslept, that kind of thing."

Blaine's eyes narrowed. "Kurt, what's wrong? You don't have to lie to me."

That made Kurt feel incredibly guilty. Glancing about him to check for prying ears, he whispered, "I had a little..._problem_ when I woke up this morning." Blaine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Kurt's rose suggestively. "You know...I was in, erm...a _sticky_ situation..."

Then Blaine got it. "OH! You had a wet dream."

Kurt tossed his hands into the air. "Yes, Blaine, let's just announce my sexual depravity to all of western Ohio, great idea."

Blaine laughed, snatching both of Kurt's hands in his own. "Love, re_lax_, okay? This happens to every guy. It's not that big of a deal. It happens to me all the time." Kurt's flushed even darker. "Kurt, come on. It's not a bad thing. It's just a part of being a horny teenager. _It happens._" He took a sip of coffee. "So...what was the dream about?"

"_Blaine_!" Kurt nearly shrieked. "I—I am not telling you that!"

"C'mon!" Blaine wheedled. "Was it about me?"

"What—I—well, _of course_ it was about you, who else would it be about—"

"Good."

Kurt wanted to smack that self-satisfied grin off of his boyfriend's face. "Don't tell me 'good.' This is not 'good.' I can't keep...oh _God_..._exploding_ in my pajamas every time I dream about you. I _like_ my pajamas!"

Blaine grinned even wider. "Wow, every time? I must be sexier than I thought."

"_Blaine Anderson this is not a laughing matter you stop mocking me right now or I swear to all that is fabulous I will snap all of your CDs in half._"

"Alright, alright, calm down." Blaine fought a few residual sniggers and gather Kurt's hands back in his own. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of them soothingly. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm just trying to make you understand that you're not weird or abnormal or disgusting for having those dreams, or reacting to them in that way. It's one thousand percent normal. _You_ are normal. There is nothing wrong with you. In fact, I find you pretty damn perfect."

This time, Kurt blushed for an entirely different reason.

* * *

><p>Okay, admit it: you thought they were having sex. Well, they were, but you thought they were <em>really<em> having sex, didn't you? You can thank ItWasALongAndDarkDecember for this chapter; she suggested I write a dream sequence, and this immediately popped into my head. I don't think it's exactly what she had in mind, but artistic license, yada yada yada.

Also, OVER FOUR HUNDRED REVIEWS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! I love you people. Y'all light up my life like motherfucking lamps. I love you.

And, hey, three chapters AND a one-shot? In two days? Are you proud of me?

So, I'm supposed to be sleeping right now, so I'll talk to y'all later. LOVE!


	62. Interrupted Practice

**Interrupted Practice**

His growly moan echoed through the empty house. His eyes rolled back in head and his toes curled. He tried not to writhe, but the pleasure of the mouth on his neck, his chest, his earlobe, his lower stomach was overwhelming. He wove his fingers through the wild curls that moved all over his bare upper body. The room was far too hot, and his skin was moments from spontaneously combusting. When the warm tongue dipped into his belly button, and teeth gently massaged the muscle there, he nearly passed out from pleasure. The tongue disappeared, only to flick over one of his rock-hard nipples a moment later. He let out a garbled scream.

Through the haze of white-hot pleasure, he didn't notice the figure standing in the doorway. It wasn't until thumbs massaged both of his nipples that his eyes blew wide, suddenly catching the shadow across the room.

"Blaine!" he shrieked, jerking upright. He pulled one of Blaine's plaid sheets over his chest and his rather obvious arousal.

The younger boy looked confused and hurt. "Kurt, what's—why'd you—" He followed Kurt's terrified gaze to the young man at the door. He, too, yelped, throwing himself off the side of the bed.

The man smirked. "Hey bro."

Blaine's debauched head poked over the edge of the bed, glaring. "Cooper. What in the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Apparently interrupting your sexy times." The ridiculously good-looking twenty-something sauntered into the room. He leaned casually against the dresser. "So you must be Kurt."

The boy in question flushed furiously. He nodded, eyes on the comforter. Blaine quickly retrieved their shirts from where they lay discarded on his nightstand, donning his own and handing Kurt his, which the boy scrambled into. Blaine then perched himself on the end of the bed, keeping himself as far from Kurt as physically possible.

Cooper noticed the position and smirked. "Relax, hobbit. It's not like I'm going to narc on you or anything. I just never expected that this is how I would be introduced to your beau. I shouldn't be surprised; we Anderson men are notorious horndogs."

Kurt squeaked and buried his face in his hands. Blaine growled out, "Cooper. Shut. The hell. Up."

Cooper grinned even wider. "So, you two do the deed yet, or did I interrupt your first attempt?"

Kurt wanted nothing more than a hole to open up and swallow him whole. Blaine leapt off the bed, grabbed his brother by the arm, and dragged him bodily from the room. "Cooper Matthew Anderson, if you _ever_ do that again I will tell Mom about all those days you skipped school to screw the Hopkinses' maid."

"Oh, burn," Cooper laughed as he was shoved into the hallway. "Bye Kurt, nice to meet you!" he called over his shoulder with a jaunty wave. The door slammed in his face.

Blaine collapsed with his back against the door with a groan. His head rocked back onto the wood for a moment, and then he looked sheepishly at Kurt. "So...that was Cooper."

"Is he always so..." Kurt struggled to find the right description for the older Anderson boy as he straightened his shirt.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, pretty much." He crossed the room and sat beside Kurt on the bed. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

Kurt smiled and grabbed Blaine's hand. "It's okay. I'd forgotten you have a brother. What's he doing home?"

"Well, it's summer, isn't it?" Blaine laughed. "He's been in and out of the house since Harvard let out. Most of the time he's been traveling with some friends around the country, but he comes home to check on me."

Kurt's brow wrinkled. "Check on you?"

Blaine's eyes suddenly dropped to the comforter. "Yeah, you know...making sure our dad isn't being..." He didn't finish the sentence; he didn't have to. Kurt merely squeezed his hand in comfort. Blaine smiled back up at him. "What I don't understand is why he felt the urge to burst in on us while we were..."

"Practicing?" Kurt offered with a sly grin.

"BECAUSE OF ALL THOSE TIMES YOU DID IT TO ME!" came a shout through the door. "PAYBACK'S A BITCH, HOBBIT!"

* * *

><p>More sexy times! I seem to be on a horny!Klaine kick, guys; I'll try to do something different this time.<p>

I know quite a few of you requested a Cooper chapter, and I told you I wasn't going to write one, and, well, obviously, that was a lie. I didn't intend to, but after writing "Blaine Anderson: A Coming Out Story," I couldn't not. Hope none of you are offended.

U GUISE. I had my first solo in church on Sunday. It. Was. Terrifying. Everyone says I did well, but I have no memory between standing up and sitting down, so I'll have to take their word for it.

I have done approximately one hour of homework in this past week. It's been fantastic. I don't trust it to last.

I've finally started watching _Sherlock_! I'm only two episode in, but I'm shipping Johnlock like it's my motherfucking _job_.

I don't know why I'm rambling to you; you guys don't care about any of this crap.

If you haven't been to asktheanderbros(.)tumblr(.)com, you have missed out in life. It is simply the best blog on the Internet. I am in love with it.

Peace out, home skillets.

(Also, SLS, did you see what I did _here_?)


	63. Overheard

**Overheard**

Desiring nothing more than a good night's rest, he climbed the stairs slowly, unable to muster the requisite strength to dash under the covers. He made his way carefully down the darkened hallway, aware that the occupants of the rooms he passed were fast asleep. He should have gone to bed hours ago, but what his family didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

As he passed one closed door, he heard muffled voices behind it, and he paused. He leaned closer, listening.

"Oh _God...Blaine..._"

Was that...Kurt?

"Come on, Kurt...just a little bit farther..."

"Blaine, watch where you're going!"

"It's not my fault you're clumsy!"

"It's your fault your huge hands are _everywhere_!"

Burt was frozen. His suddenly alert mind scrambled to come up with some excuse, _any excuse_, for the things he was hearing from his son's room, but time and again he came up blank.

He heard a low growl. "Fuck, Kurt, what're you _doing_ to me..."

"You deserve to be punished."

"Is this because I didn't notice your haircut earlier?"

Kurt gave a breathy laugh. "Maybe."

"Good _God_, how are you so good at this?"

"I am a man of many talents. Plus I practice a lot."

A soft thump, and then: "Oho, who's got the upper hand now, lover?"

"What did you just do with your fingers? That was incredible."

Burt was at a loss. He knew he should go in there and break them up, but the thought of walking in on his son...He shoved the thought from his mind.

That is, until he heard:

"I'm going to make you my bitch, Hummel."

That was it. Burt gripped the knob and shoved the door open, gritting his teeth to find—

—his son and his boyfriend, cross-legged on the floor by the foot of the bed, video game controllers in their hands, staring at Kurt's small television. Both boys looked up quickly, alarmed by the sudden intrusion.

Burt had only managed a low, "Alright, who do you—" before he froze again. He had clearly misjudged what he heard. The boys weren't _having sex_; they were playing _Mario Kart_. Burt wanted nothing more than a hole that would put the Grand Canyon to shame to open right up below his feet. He swallowed thickly. "What—how—I heard—"

Blaine, his skin bright red and his jaw slack, seemed just as flustered as Burt was. "M-Mr. Hummel, I—this isn't—I was just—"

Kurt, however, was far from flustered. "Dad! What the hell? Did we not agree to _knock first_?"

"The door was closed," Burt offered as a stuttered defense.

"Of course it was," Kurt snapped. "We wanted to play Mario Kart without waking the whole house. Is that a problem?"

"I thought—" Burt's neurons were still not firing properly; his thought processes were stuck on _my son is not having sex_. "—from the conversation, it sounded like...you two..." He trailed off, unable (and not needing) to finish.

Now it was Kurt's turn to blush, while Blaine squeaked and dropped his head into his hands. "Dad, no we—" He took a deep breath. _I am not discussing my sex life with my father._ "This is most assuredly a 'this isn't what this looks like' situation."

Burt nodded, suddenly needing to be as far away from Kurt's room as possible. "Okay. Yeah, you're right. Alright, boys, it's almost one. How about we call it a night?" Blaine nodded eagerly, relieved that he hadn't been introduced to the barrel of Burt's shotgun yet. "Blaine...as an, erm, _apology_...I'll let you stay in here tonight. BUT ANY FUNNY BUSINESS and you'll be sleeping on the roof, understood?"

Now pale, Blaine nodded fervently again. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Burt pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around. "'Night, boys," he called over his shoulder.

"'Night, Dad."

"'Night, Burt."

Burt closed the door softly as he made his way back to his own bedroom. _I never thought Kurt dating would be this much of a hassle._

* * *

><p>So, this chapter was inspired by one of the many insane conversation that I am currently involved in with the lovely shotofwhiskey, also known as the Chris to my Darren. I love you, girl, and I love the excellent writing material that you provide.<p>

Let us all take a moment to collectively orgasm over the outtakes of the _People_ photoshoot.

And now that we're back, I'm not going to say much else, because I have district History Fair in the morning and I'm hella tired. And I need to upload some pictures onto my iPod, _if you know what I mean._

See you guys later!


	64. Our Future

**Our Future**

In the darkness of the bedroom, with no sounds save the heavy breathing the boy beside him (the air mattress lying completely forgotten on the floor), he awoke with a start. Jolted upright by the vividness of his dream, his ran his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, shaking slightly. _What_ was _that?_ He had had plenty of dreams before, and plenty with that level of clarity and reality—but all of those were nightmares—or worse, memories—with a few sex dreams here and there. But this one...

His companion sensed his movement, and the younger boy sat up groggily. "Love?" Blaine's arms wound their way around Kurt's waist automatically, his chin resting on the senior's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, eyes wild. His brain was stilling warring between _It was just a stupid dream!_ and _This has to mean something!_ "I just..."

Blaine slid behind Kurt and gently eased his boyfriend back into his chest. "Was it a nightmare?" He began rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Kurt's hands where they rested on his stomach.

Kurt shook his head. "Not...not really..."

"Wanna tell me about it?" Kurt shivered at Blaine's breath in his ear.

What should he do? He could tell Blaine about the dream—_but then he'll think I'm an obsessive freak_. He could make up a story about a nightmare—_it is way too early in the morning to be coming up with lies I'll have to remember later today._ He could refuse to talk about—_but that'll make him worry_. He felt Blaine pulling him tighter into his embrace, and he chose the truth.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It was...a dream. But it didn't feel like a dream. It felt real..._so_ real. Like...I was looking into my future."

Blaine hummed quietly. "And what did your future hold?"

Kurt swallowed and closed his eyes. Immediately, the images from the dream flooded him, almost as if he couldn't escape their fate. "It's _our_ future, yours and mine. We're sitting on the floor of a room in an apartment that could only have been decorated by me. The walls are painted in a mural of a cartoon-ish safari, with animals everywhere...it's a child's room. You're sitting cross-legged on one of those tiny rugs with roads all over it, and there's...this little boy, in your lap. His has a crazy mess of black curls and the biggest hazel eyes I've ever seen. You have your arms around him and you're teaching him how to play a ukulele.

"And I...I'm sitting with my back against the leg of a crib, and there's this little baby in my arms. She...she can't be more than six months old. And she's dressed in a tiny NYU onesie. And she keeps looking at me with these...blue eyes, and I know they're mine. And I'm singing to her the song you're playing. 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.' And you whisper, 'Hey Coop, I think El like the song we're playing,' and the boy looks at her like she's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, and he says, 'Ya think, Papa?' He comes scrambling over to me, and you follow him. Coo—the boy kisses the baby, and you kiss me, and—and—and that's when I woke up." He finished his story in a whisper. He wasn't sure when he started crying, but by the end tears were streaming down his cheeks.

He heard a sniffle behind him, and he turned. Blaine's hazel eyes, carbon copies of Coop—the dream-boy's, were shining as he gazed at Kurt with something akin to wonder. "You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met."

Kurt flushed red, visible even in the dark. "I know it—it's stupid, I mean, it's just a dream, but—"

"Exactly," Blaine interrupted softly. "It's _your_ dream, for us. And I think it's absolutely perfect."

Kurt was speechless. Blaine didn't think him weird or naive or stalkerish or anything like that. He thought him beautiful. He thought him perfect. Kurt leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blaine's. "Thank you," he whispered when he pulled back.

"Thank you for sharing your dream with me," Blaine murmured in return. "Now let's get back to sleep. I want more of these lovely visions into our future."

Kurt laughed softly. "I'll do my best." He settled down onto the bed again, still firmly wrapped in Blaine's arms. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" being hummed quietly in his ear.

* * *

><p>Okay, so, it's been, like, a billion years since I've updated, so, sorry. But I'm using Spring Break to catch up. Be grateful - I could be studying for AP exams right now.<p>

Shameless self-promotion: My brother's in a band, and they're called the Free - wait, fuck, that's not me. What I _meant_ to say was that I just (finally!) updated _The Moments We Remember_, so if you haven't checked that out, you should, 'cause I put months into planning the second and third chapter, which I have yet to write because I'm a lazy motherfucker.

_Sherlock_ is fucking incredible. JSYK.

I don't know why I'm cussing so much today. Normally I try to keep my A/Ns clean. Ish. But I don't give a fuck.

Okay, so I read _The Hunger Games_ the other day, and if I don't have _Catching Fire_ in my hands like right fucking now Imma cut a bitch. I can't decided if I ship Galeniss or Katpee/Peeniss. Really, I ship Katniss/world domination, 'cause that bitch be fierce.

GUISE. _The Lizzie McGuire Movie_ was on FOX on Saturday, and my ass watched the whole damn thing (from where I came in). I remembered why I'm in love with Hilary Duff. And Gordo. Talk about friend-zoned.

I'm going to shut up now, 'cause you really don't care about any of this.

TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.


	65. Cool Off

**Cool Off**

They were calmly working on their summer homework, side by side on the carpet. One was studiously typing an English essay, and then other was staring at a packet of calculus problems, eyes glazed over in confusion. Neither one spoke, and the house was quiet. Then a door slammed shut down the hall. Excited footsteps charged to the bedroom. There was no knock at the door before it burst open.

"I'm heading to Rachel's!" Finn shouted. "Tell Mom I'm going to Puck's if she asks, will ya?" He grinned expectantly, his stepbrother's angry glare completely escaping his notice.

"Fine," Kurt snapped, lowering his gaze back down to the laptop screen in front of him. "Just don't forget the mailman."

Blaine's eyebrows knit together as Finn's face colored. The giant teen mumbled, "Shut up, bro." He spun around and stalked off, not closing the door behind him.

Kurt groaned and rolled a few times until and was close enough to the door to shove it shut. He then spun the other way to end up in front of his computer again. Without another word, he resumed typing.

Blaine wanted to let it go, but he couldn't get through another problem before the curiosity overwhelmed him. "Okay, what's the mailman?"

"Hm?" Kurt hummed in reply, eyes not leaving the screen.

"Kurt." The older boy finally looked over at his confused boyfriend. "What's with the mailman?"

Kurt choked back a snort. "Oh. That. That's...Finn. Being...Finn."

"What does that mean?" Blaine really didn't want to pry, but no matter what he did, he could not find a connection between Rachel and mailmen.

Sighing, Kurt rolled onto his side to better face his curious boyfriend. "Okay, well, when Finn and Rachel are...making out..." His nose wrinkled in disgust. "...and things get a little..._hard_, for Finn..." His lifted his eyebrows significantly, and Blaine did not miss his implication. "...and he needs to...cool off...he thinks of when he was learning to drive and accidentally ran over a mailman."

Blaine's jaw dropped. Finn actually used the memory of the time he almost killed someone as a boner killer? God, that was _so_ Finn. Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes before turning back to his essay. Blaine tried to refocus his attention on calculus, but his train of thought was moving was too fast for him to catch up. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "What's yours?"

Confused, Kurt cocked an eyebrow at him. "My what?"

"Your mailman." _Foot, meet mouth_, Blaine thought, his whole face reddening in embarrassment.

Kurt, too, colored at Blaine's question. "You mean..."

_No going back now. Might as well find out_. "What do you think of when you're..._aroused_...and you don't want to be? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he added quickly. "But, you know, if you want..." He honestly had no idea how he was going to finish that sentence, so he just gave up and waited.

Kurt bit his lip, avoiding Blaine's gaze. After a long silence, he whispered, "Pavarotti."

_What?_ "What?"

"Oh for God's sake—" Kurt shoved himself off the floor into a sitting position, throwing his hands up in the air. "I think of Pavarotti! I think of how he _died_ and how he's rotting in the ground and probably all gross and gnarly right now." He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

Blaine grinned. "That's a lot better than mine."

Kurt's head shot up. "You have one, too?

Blaine nodded. "It's Cooper." At Kurt's confused look, he elaborated. "Whenever things are getting heated between us, and I want to..._cool off_, I think of Cooper bursting in, well, being Cooper. It usually works enough for me to be able to continue our _activities_ without a problem." He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Kurt smiled appreciatively at Blaine's candor. "So...do you have to think of Cooper often?" His attempt at disinterest came out as awkward curiosity, and he fought another blush.

With a cocky grin, Blaine slid over to lie in front of Kurt's crossed knees. "Only every time we make out." He stretched his torso up to kiss his boyfriend heatedly from below.

Groaning loudly, Kurt grabbed Blaine by the lapel and dragged him up, crashing onto his back and bringer the younger boy with him. Blaine's lips immediately began sucking a bruise into the side of Kurt's pale neck. When the older boy's hips bucked upward, Blaine pulled off and asked breathlessly, "Wanna put our cool-off techniques to good use?"

* * *

><p>So...are you angry with me? *pouty puppy face* I'm really sorry for being so late guys. I have five AP exams coming up in less than a month, and I'm hella busy with review. But I promise that I have not given up on AVKS, TRTQQ, TMWR, or HFT. I'm actually about to work on the last one in a minute.<p>

Words cannot express what "Big Brother" did to me, so I'm not even going to try.

If you haven't seen _Holy Musical Bman! _stop reading my shit and go watch it. StarKid is fucking genius.

That's really all I have for you right now. TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.

(Also, I have 21 messages in my inbox that are weeks old. If I haven't replied to you, it's not because I don't care or don't like your something, it's because I'm really fucking busy.)


	66. Temptations

**Temptations**

**From Kurt (12:01 AM): **What're you doing?

**From Blaine (12:03 AM): **Knitting a sweater. What do you think I'm doing?

**From Kurt (12:04 AM): **Are you always this snippy this early in the morning?

**From Blaine (12:06 AM): **I'm not snippy.  
><strong>From Blaine (12:07 AM): <strong>I'm sorry. Was there something you needed, Kurt?

**From Kurt (12:09 AM): **You should come over here.

**From Blaine (12:09 AM):**

**From Kurt (12:10 AM): **What?

**From Blaine (12:11 AM): **Kurt, why don't you want me to retain my manhood.

**From Kurt (12:14 AM): **Okay, one, you nearly made me choke on my water. Who SAYS that? Two, what in the hell do you mean?

**From Blaine (12:16 AM): **Kurt, if your father catches me in your room when I'm supposed to be in the guest room, he'll cut Little Blaine off.

**From Kurt (12:17 AM):  
>From Kurt (12: 18 AM):<strong> One, if you ever refer to your penis as Little Blaine again I will not be afraid to dump you, you understand me?**  
>From Kurt (12:20 AM): <strong>And two, my dad's not even home. What's the big deal?

**From Blaine (12:22 AM): **First note understood. And I KNOW he's not in the house. That's why I'm in here. Because his rule: "No sleeping in the same room without an adult in the house."  
><strong>From Blaine (12:23 AM): <strong>And I am not a rule-breaker.

**From Kurt (12:24 AM): **Oh my god, Blaine, he's not going to be home until tomorrow morning. And it's not like we're going to…you know. Just come over here and cuddle me.

**From Blaine (12:24 AM): **Kurt…

**From Kurt (12:25 AM): **Blaine…

**From Blaine (12:26 AM): **We really shouldn't. I want to earn your dad's trust. If he's going to be my dad some day, too, he should like me at least.

**From Kurt (12:27 AM):  
>From Kurt (12:27 AM): <strong>What do you mean, if he's going to be your dad some day?

**From Blaine (12:29 AM): **Oh my god, that was way too forward, wasn't it? I mean, we've talked about…marriage, but…oh my god, you must think I'm a total freak—I'm going to shut off my phone now and suffocate myself in my sleep.

**From Kurt (12:31 AM): **Blaine, shut up. It's fine. I just…I guess I didn't expect that. But still, please come over. My bed is verrrrrrrrry looooooonleeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy…

**From Blaine (12:34 AM): **Don't tease me, please.

**From Kurt (12:35 AM): **I GUESS I'll just lie here, all alone, my cold, cold body shivering for someone to rub his warm, rough hands all over it…

**From Blaine (12:37 AM): **You ARE Satan, you know that, right?

**From Kurt (12:37 AM): **;)

**From Blaine (12:38 AM): **Coming.

* * *

><p>So, a break from the norm. Sort of like chapter 21, but, ya know, through text. This conversation was prompted to me by my bestie, SeptemberLoveStory.<p>

OH! Last chapter was prompted to me by the lovely MrMouseAndCheese, and the dumbass that I am, I forgot to shout out to him/her. SORRY I LOVE YOU DON'T LEAVE ME I NEED YOU AND YOUR LOVE I'LL DIE WITH YOU.

GUISE I'M GOING CAMPING THIS WEEKEND. While I enjoy camping, I _don't_ enjoy what that entails: a full weekend without Internet. I'm going to miss First Look Friday! THIS IS HELL, I TELL YOU, HELL!

I just had a huge fucking bowl of popcorn.

Okay, so if you _still_ haven't watched _Holy Musical, Bman!_, you are missing out on life. YOU GOT A PHONE CALL, MOTHAFUCKA.

Best. Line. Ever.

I would voluntarily enter a polygamist relationship with Joe Walker, Brian Holden, and Nick Lang. No questions asked. Other than "Can I please have sex with all of you at the same time?"

Whoa, that was TMI, I know.

Imma shut up now.

Glee tonight! Not that excited. While I apparently like disco more than the rest of the Internet _combined_, nothing's going to be better than "Big Brother," so...

Except "You Should Be Dancing." Damn Darren can _werk._

Seriously, though, shuttting up.

TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.


	67. Back to the Oak

**Back to the Oak**

The last beams of sunlight tickled the tops of the thick forest that lined the back edge of the park. The evening was warm, but the occasional breeze brought with it a chill that wasn't there two and a half months earlier. The screams of small children were steadily growing quieter as families left, going home to put said children to bed in preparation for the start of a new school year the next day. Soon, the only sound that would surround them would be that of late-summer crickets and wind in branches.

Some of these branches spread out high above their heads, shielding them from the darkness gathering overhead. It was quickly growing colder, so he rubbed the arm of the boy he held close, pressing his cheek into his hair. He stretched out his legs, nearly kicking the picnic basket they'd once more brought to this place. The familiar red-and-white checked blanket below them shifted.

The boy in his arms looked up with a smile. "I'm going to miss this."

Kurt grinned down at him. "Me too." He sighed. "Do we _have _to go back to school?"

Blaine twisted so that one of his legs wound between both of Kurt's. "Hm...I don't think so, but getting into Julliard will be tough without your entire senior year."

Kurt's head fell back against the trunk of their oak. "Stop being logical!"

Laughing, Blaine stretched up and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's exposed neck. "I think I can do that."

The two kissed languidly for a few moments, enjoying the way the pink sky faded to black and cast them into comfortable darkness. A small, annoyed part of their minds reminded them that acts of homosexuality in public places alone at night were dangerous in small-town Ohio, but the perfection of the evening pushed those concerns away. For the moment, it was just them, and to hell with the world.

"It's been a good summer, right?" Kurt asked, tipping his head down to rest against Blaine's wild curls. "We've had some troubles—car crashes and homophobia and family—but it's been good, hasn't it? A good first summer together?"

Blaine didn't respond for a while, choosing instead to thread his fingers through Kurt's and rub his thumb across the back of the older boy's hand. Eventually, his hazel eyes flickered upward, and he whispered, "Kurt, this summer has been perfect."

Kurt smiled. "I just hope this upcoming year will be the same. The last thing I want is more drama."

With a snort, Blaine replied, "Kurt. Have you _met_ your friends?"

Shoving Blaine slightly with his hip, Kurt sighed again. He pulled Blaine in even closer as the sun sank fully below the horizon. The day was over, and in a matter of hours, they'd be walking the halls of McKinley High School again, this time as an out-and-proud couple. They were both well aware of the challenges this would bring them, but with each other they could overcome anything.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked softly, almost unheard in the rustle of leaves above. "Will you sing to me?"

Instead of replying, Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head. Then he began to sing.

"Heart beats fast,  
>Colors and promises.<br>How to be brave,  
>How do I stay when I'm afraid<br>To fall?  
>But watching you stand alone,<br>All of my doubt,  
>Suddenly goes away<br>Somehow.  
>One step closer.<p>

I have died  
>Everyday<br>Waiting for you.  
>Darling, don't<br>Be afraid.  
>I have loved you<br>For a thousand years.  
>I'll love you for a thousand more."<p>

Kurt's lilting voice brought tears to Blaine's eyes as he remembered the past few months they'd shared together. Some days it was impossible to believe that their relationship only began in _March. _How had they not been together their whole lives? Was that what it meant to be soulmates? To look for someone for a thousand years, find them, and spend another thousand in each other's arms?

"Time stands still.  
>Beauty in all she is.<br>I will be brave.  
>I will not let anything<br>Take away  
>What's standing in<br>Front of me.  
>Every breath,<br>Every hour has  
>Come to this.<br>One step closer.

I have died  
>Everyday<br>Waiting for you.  
>Darling, don't<br>Be afraid.  
>I have loved you<br>For a thousand years.  
>I'll love you for a thousand more.<p>

And all along  
>I believed<br>I would find you.  
>Time has brought<br>Your heart to me.  
>I have loved you<br>For a thousand years.  
>I'll love you for a thousand more.<p>

One step closer.  
>One step closer."<p>

Kurt rocked Blaine gently in his arms. He understood the emotion behind Blaine's steady sobbing, for his own eyes were overflowing as well. The past two and a half months—the past fivemonths, no, the past _nine_—were the most perfect of his life. He had not known that life could be so bright before Blaine entered it. Finally he understood color and music and laughter and happiness, and it was all thanks to the beautiful boy he sang to.

"I have died  
>Everyday<br>Waiting for you.  
>Darling, don't<br>Be afraid.  
>I have loved you<br>For a thousand years.  
>I'll love you for a thousand more.<p>

And all along  
>I believed<br>I would find you.  
>Time has brought<br>Your heart to me.  
>I have loved you<br>For a thousand years.  
>I'll love you for a thousand more."<p>

When the song ended, Blaine twisted and grabbed Kurt's face in his hands, pulling him down for a fierce but gentle kiss. "I love you." They laughed, because when they broke apart, they both whispered the words at the same time. Blaine snuggled back into Kurt's embrace, resting his head on the older boy's chest. "This is our year," he murmured, "and it's gonna be a good one."

* * *

><p>And thus ends<em> A Very Klaine Summer. <em>This story and this fandom has changed my life forever. I hope you all understand the overwhelming feelings you've given me over the past ten months. You all mean the world to me, and I know for an indisputable fact that I would not be the person I am today if it wasn't for the lot of you.

I apologize for not updating since April. The end of school was hell, what with five AP tests and all, and since the start of summer I've had some trouble with writer's block. I've decided to end AVKS here, but you haven't seen the last of these boys or this 'verse, because coming soon is _A Second Klaine Summer, _a sequel to AVKS that chronicles the boys' summer of 2012 (also known as now). I'm not sure when that'll be, but if you keep track of my tumblr, klainebowsandquirrelmort, you'll be kept as up-to-date as possible. (Note about that, I'm considering creating a second Tumblr solely for my fics, so if you're interested in that follow my first Tumblr.)

There are some people who needed to be recognized for the completion of this story. The first and the foremost is SeptemberLoveStory, the Castor to my Pollux and my entire world. You, ma'am, are a beautiful British bitch, and you have most certainly changed me for the better. I would not be writing this right now if it weren't for you, my favorite reviewer, as you once put it. (Oh, and the big reveal is that I used our twinness to psychically figure out when you were away from your computer to update. MWAHAHAHAHA.)

Thaliana, you are...beyond words. You have opened my eyes to new worlds and new experiences and for that I will never be able to fully thank you. You've become a true older sister to me, something I never had and never knew I wanted until you became it. You've never let me doubt myself, which is a difficult feat. You are a beautiful person, Thali, and I love you more than I understand.

shotofwhiskey...YOU. What do I even say about you? You are flawless, that's what I say. I'd never received a drunken PM before you came into my life, and I was certainly missing out. You are truly an artist (and a writer and a lover and a fighter), and you've made life so much more fun. The illustrations you've done for me are just flawless (EVERYONE GO TO MY TUMBLR AND FIND THEM UNDER THE FANFICTION TAG), and I owe you so much. I owe you, you crazy freak.

I would also like to thank cloudysock, smiley-luce, MrMouseAndCheese, Hummel-Anderson, intensewhatever, KlainerFangirl18, ItWasALongAndDarkDecember, Klaine Is My Life, and LunaGleek14 for you many ideas and words of encouragement. Without you and all of my other reviewers, I would not have had the guts to finish this fic (or even continue it past the first few chapters). I read an article back in August that said something about publishing online because the feedback is instantaneous and encourages continuation, and that is one billion percent correct, because you all pushed me to be a better writer and to challenge myself and to submit to the will of my characters.

This fic is dedicated to all of you who changed my life.

Love,  
>McKayla<p> 


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